


Wakin' On A Pretty Day

by chubbysirius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ....eventually, Belly Kink, Body Worship, Chubby Remus, Chubby Sirius, Domestic, Feeding Kink, Fluff, Jewish Remus, M/M, Smut, Stoner Remus, Stuffing, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, a good deal of 80s music, sirius gets Very Big, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubbysirius/pseuds/chubbysirius
Summary: Sirius’s main gratitude in life is that Remus can cook even better than the house-elves at Hogwarts. Adulthood is stressful but there’s nothing a good meal can’t fix. At least, that’s how Remus puts it.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 147





	1. There's Your Man

**Author's Note:**

> been writing a lot of chubby wolfstar lately and i got caught up in this one, big time. it’s kinda plotty at the beginning because idk how to write short fics but then it’s just full on self indulgent kinkiness and no, i’m not ashamed. there’ll be maybe two or three? more chapters after this one because this is just starting small >:)
> 
> (for time period context- voldemort doesn't exist. no war, no death eaters, no nothing. they graduated hogwarts a few years back and life is good!)

“Oh Moony, I’m so glad you’re still up, I’ve had the... er...” Sirius is exceptionally ineloquent in situations such as these and trails off as he moves into the apartment. Remus is lying on the couch with his legs curled up close to him, under a warm blanket, watching  _ Stop Making Sense  _ and crying. 

A bar of chocolate is currently melting under his chest, also wrapped up in the warm blankets, though Remus had forgotten about it during Burning Down the House and had been softly weeping through the end of This Must Be the Place until Sirius came home. Remus is now pretending as though he hadn’t been crying in the first place.

“Sorry,” Sirius continues, finding his words, “Are you okay?”

“Fine, yeah, I’m fine. Just… music, you know. Emotional stuff.” Remus sits up a little straighter and wipes at the tears on his cheeks. It’s not just music, Sirius knows, or Remus's glazed red stoned eyes, but the full moon. “Nothing to worry about.” Remus waves his hand dismissively.

Sirius doesn’t press. He himself looks exhausted, more like dead on his feet, and sways as he stands. “Are  _ you  _ okay, Pads? You’ve... what?”

“I’ve had a terrible day.” It’s a rather anticlimactic confession. Sirius lowers himself onto the couch and sighs in relief. “Properly awful. The worst. Sirius and ghastly, atrocious, terrible, horrible, no good, very fucking  _ dire  _ day.”

“This is getting a bit unsuitable. Here, I'll fix you something to eat.” Remus ‘Mother’ John Lupin throws back the fuzzy blankets and makes a face once confronted with the chocolate stain on the couch. “Ew. Clean that up, will you? I’ll make you something nice and warm. The weather out there is piss awful.”

It’s true; the late November weather is unforgiving and Sirius would have been soaking wet if not for the drying charm he cast over himself. There’d been no way to warm himself up, though, and he snuggles into the soft blankets that Remus had so conveniently warmed up for him.

Sirius calls into the kitchen: “I love you, Moony!” His voice is croaky from a day of constant talking; the swing shift had kicked him in the face and then the extra hours spent in the library followed by all that time in the shop, working on the bike, well… he’s had a day much too long. And still, it’s half past two in the morning and Remus had been wide awake with no plans on going to sleep anytime soon.

Sirius hears his boyfriend clattering about in the kitchen and wonders what he would call him.  _ Manic? Insomniac?  _ Remus is singing Once in a Lifetime.  _ Bipolar?  _ Cooking while using magic speeds up the process of everything in general, and it’s hardly long at all before Remus is bustling back from the kitchen with a pot under one arm and a cup of tea in the other.

“I made too much,” He says busily, “But I don’t want to do any dishes tonight, so you can just eat it out of the pot and then clean it.” He sets a pot of macaroni and cheese in Sirius's lap, hands him a spoon, and the mug of tea. He settles heavily back on the couch beside him. Before the full moons, Remus is so exhausted but still always moving. He feels obligated to take care of others, in some strange way.

He looks at Sirius expectantly, and Sirius starts eating. The pasta is delicious. It’s gooey and creamy. Remus has been liberal with melted butter and cheese, and Sirius already feels warm after a few heaping bites. Remus is watching him, and Sirius assumes he’s looking for reassurance.

“It’s really good!” Sirius says. “You’re a great cook.” 

Remus smiles weakly. He really does look awful. Sirius would tell him to get some sleep if it wouldn't be hypocritical. 

“So what made your day so terribly awful?” And it’s here that Sirius realizes what Remus has done. He’s been warmed up, he’s been fed, he’s sitting on a soft sofa in a warm home and things could be worse. Now, from this cozy perspective, Sirius’s day just seems like a distantly distressing memory. 

“It was just long.”

“Mhm.” Remus waves his wand at the telly, evidently too lazy to get up, and the dial flickers across assorted programs. “Anything you like?”

“Don’t mind anything. We should go to bed soon.”

“Mhm.” Remus does not settle but instead gives up and they’re left watching an auction show. The host holds up a pair of glittering diamond goblets and the crowd  _ oohs  _ and  _ aahs.  _ Sirius has been steadily working his way through the pasta but has now grown rather full, and would feel embarrassed to eat it all himself, although he could if he wanted.

“Do you want some?” He gestures at the pot and Remus looks over disinterestedly.

“No, I already ate. Munchies, like.”

“What did you have?”

“Soup, sandwich.” Remus pauses and looks at the spot on the couch that hasn’t been cleaned. “Chocolate.” Even while high, Remus remains responsible. As he’d grown older, something had finally clicked in Remus’s mind in regards to taking care of himself, which Sirius had been unapologetically happy to see.

At Hogwarts, his diet had consisted mainly of chocolate, the assorted puddings at dinner, and then meat. Roast beef, pork chops, roast chicken, lamb chops, sausages, bacon, all sorts of things that are only okay in moderation and to be honest, it had been no wonder as to why Remus was so poorly. Then, summer before seventh year, he had read an incredibly enlightening literature about animal rights and had become a vegetarian.

Remus ‘Mother’ John Lupin, the veggie werewolf. Sirius can’t believe him sometimes.

“Finish it, if you don’t want to clean.” Remus’s sentence ends in a yawn, and he slides to a laying down position, his feet shoved up against Sirius’s lap as he rests his head on the arm of the sofa. He is pale, his hair long and untidy, and his breaths are shallow as he closes his eyes. The television makes noises. Sirius continues eating the pasta because he’s too tired to do dishes tonight, magically or not. 

Little by little, Sirius feels himself grow more full. Putting away the entire pot seemed like a small feat when Remus had first sat it in front of him, but the pasta is heavier than expected, and Sirius is huffing for breath by the end of it, his belly painfully stuffed. 

Sirius leans forward over his bloated stomach, despite the challenge of it all, and pulls himself to his feet. He cleans the pot and tidies up the kitchen. Once returned to the couch, Sirius’s full stomach feels all the more stranger, and he experimentally rubs his hand in a comforting circle over it. Remus has opened one eye and is watching him so Sirius stops, embarrassed.

“Want to go to bed?”

“Sure.” Sirius helps Remus to his feet and together they wander tiredly to the bedroom. Remus collapses on the bed, already falling asleep, while Sirius brushes his teeth and takes a quick, hot shower. He pours Remus’s pills into his hand and returns into the bedroom. Remus has burrowed under the covers.

“Moony, meds.”

“Mm?”

“Meds.” Remus once again opens an eye.

“Shit,” He says, “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Takes them all at once, dry swallows, and says “I love you.”

“I love you too.” And they fall asleep.

Sirius wakes up in a bed that is exponentially colder than it had been all night, and Remus is in the bathroom throwing up. The thing about Remus is while  _ he,  _ apparently, is allowed to coddle and mother, no one else is allowed to take care of him. There is some deep insecurity Remus has about his own weakness, and he hates for Sirius to take pity on him. In fact, their worst arguments had been about Sirius trying to take care of Remus.

Remus is intensely proud and hates for anyone to even see him when things are bad. It hurts Sirius to essentially ignore his boyfriend’s pain, but they had made an agreement that if Remus was really bad and genuinely needed help, he would be straightforward about it. Sirius could see the sharp regret in his eyes when Sirius had dumped his medications into his hand last night- that embarrassment of being tired enough to forget.

Remus gets ill, really ill, once a month like clockwork because of the way the moon rounds out in the sky and this morning is nothing new. Sirius’s reaction, true, is also nothing new: the way he ignores his boyfriend getting badly sick in favor of making breakfast and getting dressed in a different room so he doesn’t have to hear Remus hacking and coughing. The moon will be full tonight, and Sirius can be there for him then, but not now, not earlier.

And still, he swings by the bathroom before leaving for work.

“Moony?” Remus is sitting with his back against the bathtub and panting for breath. His t-shirt is stuck to his skin and Sirius can make out beads of sweat on his neck. “Alright?”

“You’re gonna be late.”

“Could never, just wanted to say goodbye.” Sirius squats down by him and Remus moves away, making a sour face. 

“Don’t you dare try to kiss me.” Sirius blows him an air kiss with a loud “mwah!” and Remus catches it with his fingers. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I love you.” Sirius stands up and Remus watches with glazed hazel eyes. “Take it easy, okay? I’ll see you later.” 

It’s another long day for Sirius. He takes three classes at the Wizarding university college in Dublin and spends his time Apparating between there, his job waiting tables at a Muggle restaurant in London, Remus’s awful little flat in Rhyl, and his own hollow flat in London. While Sirius spends most nights a week with Remus, there’s some weeks (even months) when the both of them are too busy to stop by. 

Their relationship is oddly lacking in commitment. Sirius occasionally sleeps with other people and Remus could if he wanted to. Remus thinks that his condition makes him too dangerous to hold onto long term; Sirius thinks that if he gets too close to anyone, he’ll end up sabotaging things and he’ll ruin everything forever. 

Anyways. 

Sirius has a long day at school and returns to the shop to work on the newest motorbike he’s set to ‘repair’. He and Benjy Fenwick, who was in his year at Hogwarts, run an underground business where they enchant motorbikes to fly, or spit flames, and stuff like that. They make good money off of it; young wizards who want to test out Muggle transportation seem to like bikes better then cars, these days.

The afternoon is long and Sirius is exhausted by the long hours bent over the newest motorbike. His pulse is elevated by the beat of magic in his blood, and there’s a sweat across his brow as he Apparates to Remus’s apartment to see him before the moon. When Sirius opens the door, he sees James lying on the sofa reading the newspaper. There’s no music on or anything.

“Hey, Prongs.”

“Hi, Sirius, how was work? Did you get the water repelling charm down?”

“Almost, Benjy wasn’t there so I couldn’t test it out on him to see if it worked. I need to get it in a bigger radius around the bike. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Don’t overwork yourself!”

Remus is in bed asleep. Sirius wakes him up with a kiss with an hour to spare before the moon. The three of them Apparate to a forest in Wales and transform into all sorts of different creatures, dark and light alike. By the time a sun is wavering nervously over the horizon, Sirius is even more bone tired than before but cannot hold a candle to Remus’s exhaustion.

They all crash in Remus’s flat to sleep off their long night. James is gone by the time Sirius wakes up, having made them peanut butter cookies and some chili left under a warming Stasis Charm like the absolute mother he is. How has Sirius ended up with friends that just want to feed him and take care of him?

It’s  _ Remus  _ who looks like a sad and sickly little person and has eyes that scream  _ TAKE CARE OF ME!  _ except Remus Lupin and his chronic lycanthropy refuse to be babied, so Sirius eats some of the cookies but waits for Remus to wake up before dinner. Except he’s hungry when he’s tired, and he’s always tired these days, so he fixes some toasted cheese sandwiches and picks up a dog-eared copy of some book Remus is reading; The Hero With A Thousand Faces. 

It’s about dreams, drugs, and mythology, so Sirius gets lost in it. He curls up on the sofa under a blanket and wastes what feels like hours there, a magic fire burning in the fireplace and warming him. There is a heavy rain pattering about the windows that makes Sirius feel glad he’s somewhere cozy and warm. Remus’s flat may be coffin-sized and untidy, but nowhere has ever felt more like home to Sirius. 

“Getting your greasy paws all over my book?” Remus’s sleepy sarcastic voice comes from the doorway and Sirius startles, spilling the tea that he’d nestled by himself, and he curses and casts a spell to clean up the mess while Remus limps towards the sofa.

“Sorry, love, I left awful fingerprints all over it. It’s unreadable, I’m afraid. Best to burn it.” Sirius hands the book to Remus with an apologetic look on his face.

“I’ll get on that. Use it for kindling.” Remus looks better than he had yesterday. His posture shows that he’s hurting, but his face isn’t so pale and there’s a life to his eyes. “James left food.”

“He’s such a worrier.”

“I’m fit to have some, but I guess you’ve already gone ahead.” Remus gestures at the plate on the sofa and the crumbs all over the blankets.

“I won’t argue against more!” Sirius grins and Remus smiles too.

“Good, then.” They eat a simple dinner of chili and cookies and tea. Sirius stays for breakfast and lunch the next day, but spends his dinner in the restaurant after his shift. The cooks give him and the other closer, a nice girl named Iris, all the leftover chips and some sandwiches. They eat together while the food is still warm before closing down for good.

Sirius passes by a TESCO on his way up the street to his flat and pops in to buy milk, bread, cereal, and some other things to stock his own kitchen with. Finals are coming up and he focuses better alone. When Sirius returns home, the previous milk in his fridge had gone so bad that everything else in the fridge reeks too. After throwing most things out, Sirius helps himself to some of the ice cream he had bought, and a Jaffa Cake for good measure, and he falls asleep thinking that it might be time to start going to the gym again.

—

Only it’s finals season, and now Christmas season, so Sirius is always working or studying or snogging Remus, bouncing about the U.K. and does not ever go to the gym. He walks, he tells himself, from work to his flat and back. And he walks around all the time at work!  _ And  _ he turns into a dog once a month and runs the length of the London marathon, so there. He gets plenty of exercise.

Except he’s gaining weight and it’s frankly undeniable, especially since no one has the guts to insult him for it, specifically Remus, who is the whole reason that Sirius has started getting fat. He’d return from work or school or the shop feeling burnt out and in good need of a meal and a fuck, and Remus would absolutely always provide. 

Remus’s flat is a beacon of warmth in the frozen north of Wales. Sirius will come in from the cold rain or snow, almost always at nighttime, and Remus will make his day. Heavy, rich warm food and then Remus himself with his sly smile, wicked humor, and that wild thing he does with his tongue.

Christmas Party Season begins and so Remus and Sirius stop being casual-boyfriends and put on their official-boyfriend faces. The first party is at Dorcas and Marlene’s place because they’re going to Greece for Christmas, to visit Dorcas’s family, and everyone is jealous but they’ve  _ got _ to throw a party before they leave. Remus wears what he always wears. 

He diligently wore his Gryffindor robes in school and has adopted a new uniform as an adult: corduroy trousers, a collared shirt of some assorted color or pattern, and a jumper on top. Bonus points for elbow patches. His shoes are always brogues. Don’t tell anyone, but they’re the only pair he owns. Today, his shirt is this strange pink and blue paisley and the garish collar pokes out from under his dark blue jumper. 

Remus shrugs on his ugly army green coat while Sirius takes a deep, nervous breath. 

Today, he had come to the unpleasant realization that none of his clothes really  _ fit.  _ Well, some of them do. But Sirius isn’t going to wear a tee shirt and jogging bottoms to a  _ party.  _ He’s dressed nicely: a dark striped shirt, a too tight purple waistcoat, dark trousers, and his black boots. 

Except. The shirt buttons are a bit faint against the weight of his belly, and the waistcoat clings to his hips. Sirius had stretched the trouser waist with a charm and is holding everything together with a belt, but he still feels like he’s a moment away from bursting the seams on every article of clothing that he’d squeezed himself into.

Remus swings into the bathroom, his hair untidy and his eyes wide.

“Apparently the party started at six, not seven, so we’re two hours late. Which is great. Shall we go? Oh, you look so nice!”

“You look nicer,” Sirius grumbles. “Come on, let’s go.” 

Dorcas and Marlene’s flat is big and crowded. Marlene flies beater for the Appleby Arrows and Dorcas has a job at the Daily Prophet so both of them are lush with connections. Marlene finds them first, holding drinks, and there’s a billion earrings in her ears all swinging silver metal and she wears a button down shirt, and her long blonde hair is done with matching plaits. Her bangs just brush her eyes.

“Hi Remus, Sirius, have you put on weight? I love that shirt, Remus, you’d better let me borrow it at some point, and these are moscow mules if you want them, and Remus, do you still not drink?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, well, Sirius can have yours for you.” She pushes both drinks into Sirius’s hands and then smiles at him. “Look at you, double fisting already! Haha! Enjoy the night, I’ll see you for dinner.” She twirls away into the crowd and Sirius shifts anxiously with the moscow mules in hand. Remus eyes them with cool wariness; his dad had been a functional slash neglectful alcoholic and Remus doesn’t drink for fear of turning out like him. 

Sirius lifts a drink in the form of a question, and Remus says, “Go on. Just pace yourself.”

“But I’m double fisting!” Remus laughs in response. His face is a bit pink and he tugs at the collar of his shirt, nervously. He doesn’t like a crowd and especially a crowd of drunken acquaintances from Hogwarts, or in Remus’s eyes, the horrors of primary and secondary school combined. “Let me find the snacks and then I won’t get as drunk. Are you off to smoke?” Remus nods, jams his hands in his pockets, takes an anxious look around, and then gives Sirius another smile.

Sirius finds the snacks, much to his delight, and fills his stomach with food before putting away both moscow mules, a glass of water in between them, and then finding someone to dance with, the first person he runs into being Emmeline Vance who was a Hufflepuff in his year and always sort of had a crush on him. 

Her hair is blonde and hugely feathered, like some bird that had crashed into a power line. The bangs curl in front of her eyes, bottle glass green, which is why Sirius had pretended to like her back in fourth year and gone on a few dates with her in Hogsmeade. Green eyes, clear and intelligent in most situations. Emmeline shrieks with delight upon finding Sirius and wraps her hands round his wrists, dragging him closer, moving to the music. 

She presses up against him as they dance, a little closer, and then Sirius’s belly bumps up against her. 

“Whoops!” Sirius calls, two-stepping backwards. He hasn’t had  _ too  _ much to eat today, even though his stomach is comfortably full from lunch and the plate of crackers, cheese, and assorted types of deli meat that he’d put away just so he won’t get too drunk too fast. He had not thought of himself as full enough for his pudgy belly to go  _ touching  _ people without permission. Sirius genuinely only assumes that there’s just a little padding on his body, but not nearly enough to… infiltrate. Not enough to round out his belly to the point where it’s sort of beyond his control…

Emmeline laughs, tells him it’s okay, and then loops both hands around his waist to show that she  _ really  _ doesn’t mind. She pulls him closer than ever and Sirius thinks  _ fuck it, we’re only dancing,  _ and for a while they do. Closer than they should be, but Sirius has a boyfriend and Emmeline’s only flirting, and then a voice says from behind them:

“That’s my man, Emma.” Emmeline has specifically told Remus on countless occasions  _ not  _ to call her Emma. Those occasions being the ones where she’s flirting shamelessly with Remus’s boyfriend. And so Remus continues calling her that because she never really listens. Emmeline’s face flushes pink and she steps away from Sirius, holding her hands up in defense as Remus moves closer.

Sirius turns to look at him for the steadying eye contact, and Remus smiles at him with all sorts of warmth that just drains from his face as soon as his amber eyes move to Emmeline. Remus stands by Sirius’s side and wraps an arm around his waist, hand resting on Sirius’s hip.

“Having fun?”

“Only dancing!” Emmeline squeaks. “It’s good to see you, Remus, I didn’t know you were here.” Sirius snorts but Remus just gives her a pinched smile.

“Only taking a smoke break,” He echoes. “Now it’s my turn…” And he turns his back on her quite physically to push against Sirius’s hip while Sirius tangles his arms around Remus’s neck, and they kiss, and they dance good and proper. Emmeline’s a better dancer than Remus, but Remus still has fun and Sirius enjoys himself more when his too big body is grinding up against someone he loves. 

“Jealous, Moony?” Sirius asks as Remus puts his hands on Sirius’s hips, moving him to the music. Remus only smiles.

“Of Emmeline Vance? In your dreams.”

Sirius just shakes his head and Remus smiles as the music changes to Madonna. Forget psychedelic rock or punk, Remus’s guilty pleasure is American pop. Plus, him and Marlene both find Madonna quite physically appealing as well, though Sirius definitely isn’t jealous of her. 

Well. Maybe a little. Everyone might be a little jealous of Madonna.

They dance for a while and then socialize a little while longer. Benjy and his boyfriend Caradoc are there. Caradoc is a Healer in training at St. Mungo’s and is talking to Mary MacDonald, who is training to become a nurse at a Muggle hospital in London. While they share anecdotes related to which of them has a harder go of it, Remus and Sirius listen along and interject at all the right moments. 

Sirius is busy realizing that he should have left well enough alone and just abandoned these trousers for good, because the button is really starting to strain. He’s okay standing up, but has to suck in his stomach when they sit down for dinner. Dorcas is a smashing cook and has made all sorts of traditional Greek food which everyone praises and compliments because it all does look and smell amazing.

Remus is curiously examining which dishes don’t include meat, while Sirius just puts everything in arms’ reach onto his plate. There’s tiropita- cheese pie with a flaky pastry outside- and stuffed cabbage rolls and juicy pork loin with crispy potatoes. Sirius has almost finished his first plate by the time that Remus has selected any food, and he holds out his glass for Dorcas’s offer of mulled wine, and fills up his plate a second time.

Benjy asks, “Hey, have you tried these?” and drops some pastries onto Sirius’s plate and he bites into one and it’s  _ so  _ good- warm apples and spiced sausage and flaky phyllo dough. Sirius mumbles something about how good it is with his mouth full and Benjy just laughs while Remus, on his other side, gently swats his arm and tells him to mind his manners before cutting him another thick slice of pork and dropping it on his plate with an air of professionalism. 

Sirius loves Christmas time.

And his boyfriend, who keeps his plate full until everyone else stops eating so Remus grudgingly lays off with the refills. He hadn’t eaten much, just some spinach pie and a bunch of asparagus and potatoes. Remus had been much more attentive about what Sirius was eating. Which is weird, right? It’s strange? Because it feels super wonderful and normal to Sirius, but he’d caught Marlene giving them a weird look from across the table, and she had commented on Sirius’s weight earlier…. 

The thing is, Remus hasn’t said anything. And yeah, Sirius has mostly been sleeping at his own flat the past few weeks as finals season ran down to a close, so they haven’t seen too much of each other. And Remus is really polite and has never made a comment on someone else’s appearance  _ ever,  _ so he’s not going to be the one telling Sirius if his weight gets out of hand. Sirius doesn’t want to be broken up with because he let himself go.

Except Remus gives him a soft smile and his eyes are all warm and green, like nothing’s wrong. He’s had this dopey sick look on his face all night long- when they were dancing, talking, and especially when he’d dumped more and more food onto Sirius’s plate. 

Maybe he likes it. Maybe good-Jewish-boy Remus Lupin is a chubby chaser. Just the thought of it makes Sirius’s face heat up, and he diligently finishes off the last of the potatoes on his plate before stifling a gentle burp against his hand and sitting back in his chair to make room for his full belly.

Sirius’s stomach is tight and swollen with food. He looks down at his empty plate- he’s refilled it  _ four  _ times- and he feels impossibly bloated. Jesus Christ. Everyone else is mostly talking but Sirius had been totally focused on eating and is now sort of dazed. The only thing keeping him truly  _ here  _ is the intense discomfort of his trouser waist cutting into his belly and pinching at his thighs.

He shifts in his chair, trying to get comfortable, and then there’s a pop and a clatter and the button on his trousers has disappeared under the table. And then, by some awful evil fate, his round and bloated belly starts to push the zipper down by itself and it’s here that Sirius casts some wordless, complicated charms on the trousers that stretch the waist and freeze the zipper all at once so his stupid stomach doesn’t come springing out all over Dorcas and Marlene’s table. He pulls his too-small waistcoat as far down as it will go, the seams straining over his swollen belly. When Sirius tries to lean back, the thighs of his trousers creak audibly, and he squirms around in some weak attempt at getting comfortable.

“Ants in your pants, Sirius?” Marlene asks. Sirius just laughs.

“Can I have some more wine?”

—

When they get back to Remus’s flat, Remus asks if Sirius wants to smoke.

“Smoke?”

“Weed. Dorcas gave me some.” Remus holds up a small bag of shiny green herb. He smiles. “Up for it?”

“Of course!” Sirius has to change, first, of course. His body thanks him for undoing it from the painful confines of the tight outfit. After struggling out of it, Sirius catches a shameful glimpse of himself in the mirror; there are red marks on his tummy and thighs from where his trousers and shirt were cutting in, and he quickly pulls on his roomiest t-shirt, an oversized one with The Who’s red white and blue logo printed on it.

His hair looks soft and shiny, and Sirius combs his fingers through it on top to give some volume. He lets out a long, slow breath. When he turns to the side, his swollen stomach rounds out in front of him. Experimentally, Sirius prods two fingers into the flesh. There’s hardly any give. Sirius sighs in relief. He’s only bloated. 

In the living room, Remus is packing a pipe full of weed and Sirius crashes down on the sofa next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. Remus sighs in contentment and holds up the pipe to Sirius.

“We need to get up, Pads. Sorry to say.”

“We can’t smoke it in here?”

“Not if the landlord has anything to say about it,” Remus begins as he untangles himself from Sirius’s needy grip, “So we’ll just smoke it out the window. No problem.” They smoke a few bowls each until they’re high and giddy, and Remus turns on the radio as he wanders into the kitchen.

“Not enough vegetarian food at dinner parties, if you ask me… oh, Dorcas also gave me some baklava, do you want some? I’m still hungry.” Duran Duran is on the radio and Remus is bustling about the kitchen in that warm, caretaking way of his. He produces a box of baklava and it looks just as good as everything else at the party, if not better. Sirius had limited himself to a few bites of Remus’s dessert due to the issue with his trousers falling apart, but now that he’s had some time to digest and massage some space into his belly, plus the weed, he’s ready for more.

Remus cuts them each a piece. The baklava is flaky with golden honey drizzled on top, and there’s a perfect blend of sweetness and the rich taste of pistachios in between the sweet, thick layers of pastry. Remus shakes his narrow hips to ‘The Reflex’ and smiles at Sirius. His eyes are red from the weed and he looks unbearably handsome.

“Mmm, Moony, you keep trying to feed me.”

“Huh, what?” Are Remus’s cheeks flushed red, or is it just the light? He pushes a fork into Sirius’s hand and then takes his own bite of baklava.

“I mean, look at me! I’ve gained at least a stone since December started and it’s all your fault.”

“No- well- I mean- I don’t.” Remus stuffs another bite into his mouth and chews it slowly as an excuse not to reply. When he finally swallows, his response is defensive. “There’s not anything wrong with eating, now is there?” And Sirius has no response but to keep eating the baklava while Remus watches on in appreciation. 


	2. Relax!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all i have to offer is a lot of food & a lot of fluff. (and a lot of love for remus lupin)

Dorcas’s dinner party was only the first.

Benjy and Caradoc have a smaller gathering where they all just get high and eat pizza and watch the Queen’s speech. Caradoc has a lot to say about it, and so does Remus, so Sirius leaves the two of them to their political commentary while he continues to stuff himself full of greasy pizza. It’s got mushrooms and olives, and other assorted awful vegetables on it because Remus is a vegetarian who actually  _ eats  _ vegetables, but Sirius is stoned and really can’t help himself.

Even when the pizza is gone, he’s still hungry. Benjy produces some Jaffa Cakes so the two of them demolish a package of those and then Benjy turns off the T.V., turns on the radio, and the four of them sort of just dance around to Break Machine for a while. Sirius only dances for a bit, because his stomach is really full and moving around just compounds all the food and so he just sits back down after a while. Remus sits next to him, puts a hand high up on Sirius’s thigh, and then they leave soon after.

They go to Sirius’s cold flat and fuck like rabbits. Remus puts on Frankie Goes to Hollywood which is awful, _really_ awful but it’s easy to move to. It puts them in a good mood. Remus’s body is all scars and bones, his breath hot and his teeth sharp. He bites around Sirius’s neck, sucking hickies into his skin, and his deft fingers press gently into the swell of Sirius’s belly before they move farther down and he kisses Sirius wet and hard while Sirius sucks at his lip and makes little moaning noises. 

Ryan Molloy tells him to  _ relax  _ and then groans and then there’s some weird guitar and Ryan’s moaning about coming while Sirius pants in time to the music and Remus mutters something about how he can’t believe they’re doing this to fucking  _ Frankie,  _ and Sirius just laughs. 

After the song ends, Remus stops fucking around. In that sense. 

His  _ real  _ sex mixtape does not include any pornographic 80s tosh and when Sirius gets to come, in a way that has no relation to Ryan Malloy, he does it to a Zeppelin guitar solo. Remus’s groans are stuttered and he buries his face in the crook of Sirius’s shoulder, where it meets his neck, and he bites down and Sirius sighs out loud and then they’re done, all sticky with come. Remus lies next to him and they just lie there for a few minutes, breathing heavily while I Can’t Quit You Baby plays out.

After they clean up, Remus brings ice cream into the bedroom, which is how you know they’ll be going for a second round a few hours later. Sirius starts eating the heavy fudgy ice cream while Remus puts on another tape that isn’t crudely labeled “FUCK MIX”, thank god, and they lie in bed and share the pint.

“Should stop getting so stoned,” Remus mumbles as he scrapes the bottom, “I’m gonna get fat.”

“Oho!” Sirius pokes Remus’s big nose with the end of his spoon. “Like  _ you’re  _ the one who has to worry about getting fat. Just think of the ordeal tomorrow at James and Lily’s!” James and Lily Potter are known for their hosting and cooking slash baking skills. At Hogwarts, whenever anyone was down, Lily would bake them something to cheer them up. She did a lot of baking after 1975 or so. When she and James had started dating and Lily had met his mother, the two of them had gotten along splendidly, because one of their many ideas of love involves feeding people. 

Except James isn’t a fit  _ freak,  _ per se, but he plays Quidditch and has to stay in some sort of shape. So Lily got the strangest job of working in the dining hall for University College London because why not, and she gets to use industrial sized ovens to bake whatever she pleases for the university students of the future. And when the two of them throw their annual post Christmas and pre New Years party, they go all out.

“You’re going to eat yourself sick,” Remus murmurs softly. This sentence is accompanied by an expression of pure admiration, and he pats Sirius’s stuffed belly before withdrawing his hand, almost embarrassed, and takes the empty ice cream carton to the kitchen to throw away. By the time he returns, Sirius has put the fuck mix back on, and Iggy Pop has begun his gritty serenade to sexland.

**-**

Next morning, Sirius wakes up and his belly is still sort of full, all tender and bloated. Remus is banging about in the kitchen already, which is surprising, seeing as Sirius has next to nothing stocked in his flat and usually shows up at Remus’s to get fed. 

Apparently, Remus cooks well even with the basics.

He’s made omelettes, thick and heavy with cheese. All of Sirius’s cheese. And all of his eggs. And, yeah, all of his butter.

“We’ll go shopping today,” Remus assures him as they sit down to eat. “Sorry there’s no fillings, but I couldn’t put your weird crisps inside, there’s not much else-”

“It’s perfect.” Sirius’s mouth is full but Remus’s eyes still get happy at the compliment, so Sirius assumes he’s understood. “You’re the best.” They share a shower, afterwards. To save hot water, Remus says, but he just wants an excuse to see Sirius all steamy and they get to making out and Sirius gets down on his knees and gets mouthfuls of shower water and Remus, and Remus ends up so lost in the blowjob that he slips and slides and ends up on the floor of the shower on top of Sirius and laughing so hard that he’s crying.

They do go to the market, after that. Smelling like the same soap. Remus looks edgier than usual, wearing Sirius’s Ramones shirt and some black jeans that are too short for him because they belong to Sirius. With his green coat on top and those brogues on his feet, he looks like a bizarre hipster punk hybrid, and Sirius loves him a million times over. 

Remus leaves in the early afternoon to go change into his own clothes and finish up some work. They’re meeting up again at the Potters’ that night. Sirius spends the day snacking on his ‘weird crisps’ (flavored like brussels sprouts and fuck off for judging him, they taste amazing) and looking over some weird mechanical designs that Benjy had presented to him last night as the two of them were too high to really sit down and make sense of motorbikes.

It’s a relief to not have any schoolwork to worry about for the time being, and he had requested to not be scheduled at the restaurant for the two weeks at the end of the year, so now there’s nothing but free time until the new year.

Free time and Christmas parties.

Sirius floos into Remus’s apartment at six so maybe this time they don’t have to be two hours late, and Remus is dressed in his usual garb of some strange collared shirt underneath a soft jumper. Cuffed corduroys and his typical brogues. Sirius misses seeing Remus in his clothes. They show up early at the Potters’ townhouse and Lily beams at them as she answers the door.

“Hello, you two! Sirius, you look  _ good _ !” She hugs him, and then Remus, and then pulls them inside while talking excitedly to Remus. “I made everything  _ completely _ meatless just to prove that it’s possible, and it all looks amazing! Check it out!” Lily brings them into the kitchen which is filthy and looks as though a tornado has run through. There’s dishes of food on every imaginable surface and Sirius feels his mouth watering as he looks around. It is going to be a good night indeed.

**-**

Sirius could thank James and Lily for about a million things, and he could start listing them off right here and now if not for the fact that no one wants to hear them (maybe James, he’s always loved to gloat, but it’s debatable either way.) Despite the gratitude, Sirius had never thought he had the pair of them to thank for his newfound kink.

Yes, he’s said it out loud. Yes, it’s  _ true.  _

Eating himself sick, as Remus would say, gets Sirius off, and he doesn’t know what to do about it. There’s always been something about food, in some small way. It’s a comfort. It feels good to eat it, tastes good. Sirius has always enjoyed it, but ever since he’s started putting on weight and going entire days without ever feeling hungry due to the fact that he’s always stuffed full, it’s kind of made him feel  _ really  _ good.

Extra good.

And tonight, there had been so much fucking food, and Remus had kept refilling his plate as though fulfilling some awful duty to make Sirius embarrass himself to a ridiculous degree. But Jesus, had it worked or what? Sirius could feel his stomach stretching, belly bloating out, literally distending itself to fit all the food that he kept cramming in there. And Sirius had been thinking about how  _ full  _ he was, how heavy and swollen, how big, and how much bigger he could get, and then Remus cut him another slice of Yule Log and Sirius realized that he was half hard and now he’s in Remus’s entryway with Remus on his knees in front of him.

They’re awful people, aren’t they?

Remus’s mouth ghosts so softly around the swell of Sirius’s belly before those soft lips find his cock and Sirius mumbles some filth, curling his hands into Remus’s hair as he takes  _ all  _ of him and just makes a little noise in his throat to show for it. Every nerve in Sirius’s body is sharp and white hot with pleasure and he thinks about Remus touching him, feels him sucking and licking, thinks about his mouth against his stomach, imagines himself but  _ fatter,  _ imagines Remus holding back his soft belly while blowing him, or the warm heat of jiggling thighs, or, or, or, or-

“Remus, Moony, I’m gonna, okay-oh-  _ ohh _ .” Remus swallows his come obediently because they’re both too tired or else sex crazed to clean up a mess tonight, because they’ve gotten  _ messy  _ before and it’s never really worth it. Hardly ever. Remus just sits down on the floor when he’s done and Sirius tucks himself back into his trousers with shaky hands. It’s harder for Sirius to sit down with his belly so obnoxiously full, and it’s harder to maneuver around than usual. It sits like an insistent lump in his lap as he thumps down onto the floor next to his ever more graceful boyfriend.

Sirius sighs heavily, then stifles a soft burp against his hand, and Remus is giving him this green eyed gaze that drips honey and love. Sirius leans into him and Remus welcomes him in with a warm arm around his shoulder. They sit in the entryway side by side, heads against each others’ as they lean into each other. Together.

They sit a while. Sirius’s belly aches and he wants to rub it but is also a little embarrassed to. No real reason why, he’s just stupid sometimes. He thinks he’ll check his weight at the gym when he’s back on campus for uni. Because he thinks he’s done a lot more damage than expected. And he’s not sure if he’s going to lose any of this anytime soon.

**-**

Classes start again in late January. Sirius is taking mostly anthropology courses, but one statistics course and a religious studies one on top of it. One of his casual fuckbuddies happens to be in his stats class, and after the lecture ends, Sirius catches him in the hallway outside. 

He’s a little bit out of Sirius’s league. Daniel plays football and as horrible and ironic as it is, Sirius first got together with him because of his exceptionally fit body. Sirius asks if he’s busy this weekend and Daniel looks him up and down, eyes lingering on his midsection before finding his face again, before telling him that he’s not interested anymore.

“I’m not really into bigger guys,” Daniel tells him, “So if you lose it, let me know.” He shrugs, says, “Or I guess I’ll just see for myself.” It’s an asshole thing to say and Sirius feels like shit for the rest of the day, which is why he gets a whole large pizza for himself that night and eats the whole thing over the course of the night in his cold, empty flat while trying to write the rough draft of an essay.

After his fourth slice, he wonders what the fuck is wrong with him. Why is he eating an entire pizza? Why is he going to eat a package of cookies afterwards, and maybe some of his crisps in bed after that, and probably a little bit of chocolate before going to sleep? Why is he going to wake up and eat eggs, sausages, cereal, and any cookies he hadn’t finished the night before just for breakfast? Why is he constantly stuffing himself full of unhealthy, unnecessary food?

To deal with this, Sirius seeks validation from boyfriend number one- Remus Lupin. Dials him up on the telephone that Sirius had installed because he’s living a life more Muggle than wizard, these days and it’s incredibly convenient. Remus picks up after a few rings.

“Hello?”

“Moony?” 

“Hey, Sirius, what’s up?”

Sirius gets right down to business. “I know that it’s some kind of joke between us that I’ve gained weight, but I think I’m actually getting fat, at this point, and it’s obvious and people notice and we laugh about it but I want to know that you won’t dump me, even though we aren’t official, but that you won’t like… distance yourself from me because I’m a stupid fucking pig who apparently just can’t stop eating and gaining weight and it’s, oh, it’s insane, this is insane. Please don’t break up with me because I’m fat.” 

Remus lets the silence permeate, which makes Sirius feel like even more of an idiot than usual. What’s worse than anything is the laughter that comes next. Ob-fucking-scene. Remus is carrying on like Sirius is some world class comedian, laughing down the line all bright and goddamned jolly, and Sirius snaps “What’s so funny?” while Remus hoots and hollers like some brainless bellend.

“Sirius,  _ sweetheart,  _ you haven’t noticed me feeding you like crazy? You haven’t noticed that it’s probably all my fault? Does it  _ seem _ like I’ve distanced myself?”

“I… I…”

“Oh my god, babe, you can be such an idiot sometimes!”

“ _ Re-mus! _ ” Sirius’s tone is patronizing and Remus literally has the bad sense to giggle.

“I think you look so, so hot when you’re bigger and I can’t believe… Jesus, I thought you knew! I thought we just knew without having to say it out loud!”

“Well I like things laid out in front of me!”

“I realize that now.” Remus has stopped laughing and Sirius wonders if his face hurts from smiling, wonders what he looks like right now. “I’m sorry for laughing at you. But you’re into this too, right? You want to gain weight?” Saying it out loud like this sounds really mental, but Sirius has to admit that it is true.

“...Yeah.”

“How big do you want to get?” Sirius’s face flushes bright red.

“...I dunno. Merlin.” He’s so glad that Remus can’t see him all flustered like this. “Way bigger. Like, properly. Erm. Haha, why is this so awkward to say out loud? I just want to be huge,” and then he laughs. “Sorry about this, about this awkwardness or whatever, I’ve just had a shitty day and it’s all better now, don’t worry, but I was just worried. Sort of worried.”

“Aw, I’m sorry. Worried about the… about us? About the eating thing?”

“Yeah, because I’m dumb, so don’t make fun of me.”

“Would never. Do you want to come over? I can cook something for you.”

“Ah, I’d love to, but I’ve got this essay to finish and I already ate. I’m kind of… full.”

“What’d you have?”

“Just some shitty pizza.”

“The whole thing?”

Sirius’s cheeks go red again. “Yeah.”

“...Was it a large one?”

“Yeah.” Sirius’s voice is a little sigh-y, a little desperate, and Remus makes a strange cooing noise. Maybe a little ‘aw’. Just something in the back of his throat. His next words are all rushed out but in no way impulsive.

“Sirius, I love you, I love you a million times and I just- want-  _ you.  _ Can we be official? And exclusive? Do you want to move in? Or I can move there, I know that Rhyl sucks. I want to see you every morning, and every night, and I hate the days we have apart. Can we just move in together? Please?” As though Sirius would have ever said no, in any life.

**-**

Remus moves to London and in three months, Sirius gains thirty pounds. Most of it is because Remus is too doting. His behavior is most often inspired by the cooking channel on telly and the sheer talent of professional chefs, and honestly, Remus could hold his own on one of those cooking shows. 

Today, he wakes Sirius up with breakfast in bed because he’s diabolical; fried eggs with runny yolks and juicy veggie sausages, plus fluffy pancakes, drenched in butter and thick syrup, and he gives Sirius the leftover pancakes to take to school. So Sirius has a heavy breakfast and snacks on those pancakes secretively throughout class, and then Benjy takes him out to lunch because their business is doing well, really well, these days, and they’re happy. Lunch, more schoolwork, more snacks, then work, and work always makes Sirius awfully hungry.

Waiting tables at a restaurant for hours into the night when you’re not allowed to eat all that good food on the plates in front of you gets tiring. The server station is right in front of the food window, so all the smells from the kitchen come right through, and the worst is when Sirius has to go  _ into  _ the kitchen to get plates, or check a ticket, or grab some extra silverware- he can see everything cooking, frying, all of the sauces, fucking all of it, and then he has to rush back out before he can beg the cooks for a few chips or an entire steak, or something.

When he comes home from work smelling like oil and dead on his feet, Remus makes him dinner. Lots of it. Stroganoff, which is one of Sirius’s favorites, mostly because of the way Remus cooks it. Thick noodles, creamy sauce, and soft, spiced mushrooms. No beef, because Remus won’t cook with it. Sirius isn’t even sure that he’s willing to buy it.

They sit down at the table together and Sirius doesn’t wait for pleasantries before he digs in. He’d been comfortably full all day until work, and now he’s hungry, so he shovels pasta and sauce into his mouth and is halfway through his first plate by the time he realizes that something is wrong with Remus.

Not wrong, per se. But he’s anxious, and he’s not often anxious. He asks Sirius about work and Sirius goes on some anecdote about this drunk couple at the bar before realizing that Remus isn’t actually listening, and then asks what’s wrong. Remus, as he does, spills it all in one go.

“Nothing… it’s not  _ wrong,  _ like, but… but I’ve been talking to my dad again, he got sober, like, and… and I dunno, I kind of believe that he’s trying to make progress. Well, anyways. Purim is coming up, and he invited me over so we can make our hamantaschen and the Mischloach manot, and you- you don’t even know what I’m talking about, but he asked if I was seeing anyone, if I wanted to bring someone along and that’s… well… that someone is  _ you  _ and so I told him and he told me to bring you, like, and so… like, would you want to come with me?”

It’s a big mess of words and Hebrew? Or Yiddish? And Sirius doesn’t even know what Purim is, but he knows that Remus’s Welsh accent gets stronger when he’s angry, tired, or nervous, and Sirius assumes this is the latter.

“Like, like, like…”

Remus’s cheeks flush as he fake-glares at Sirius. “Shut up! I’m trying to be nice, like. Oh, hell!” 

“Of course I’ll come with you, Moony, that’s so sweet of you to invite me. When is it?”

“Starts on Saturday-”

“Saturday!”

“-and I should have told you earlier but Christ, I was nervous!”

“It’s okay, that’s alright. I’ll trade shifts, it’s no big deal.” Remus seems to deflate with nervous energy. His green eyes meet Sirius’s, and he smiles.

“Thank you. It means a lot.” Those eyes drop to Sirius’s plate and Remus grabs it to refill with another heaping portion. “Now eat up!” Sirius obeys. Remus sticks on the radio and fills their glasses with apple juice because Remus has the palate of a child, and Sirius just eats and eats and eats.

It’s not awkward, it’s never been. Remus doesn’t sit there and stare at him as he goes. Remus just makes his own portion last longer by eating slowly, keeping up conversation, while Sirius throws caution to the wind and devours the heavy pasta and rich sauce. Remus keeps filling up his plate until there’s nothing left in the pot, and Sirius eats everything. He slows down, after a while, when Remus has nothing left on his plate either, and now they just have conversation, apple juice, and pop radio to keep them company. 

Sirius shifts in his chair and stops to catch his breath. His work uniform had been oversized from the start, so the fact that it feels tight right now is a bit alarming. His belly is so warm and achingly full, and Sirius winces as he sits up straighter to finish the last of the food on the plate before sighing loudly and relaxing back into the chair.

His belly presses very tightly against the waist of his work trousers. Sirius sucks in, and the pressure is relieved, but it’s even more uncomfortable. When he releases his breath, his stomach presses so tight against the waist that the seams stretch audibly, and the button is barely hanging on. Sirius’s face is hot with embarrassment, and he draws his chair closer to the table so he can undo the button on his trousers without Remus noticing.

But when his belly floods out onto his lap, Sirius cannot contain himself from touching it, pressing a palm against the bloated curve of his stomach. He rubs a small circle in means of comfort, and then Remus glances over at him, so he stops. His face is on fire. Sirius doubts that Remus has even seen, but he’s still ridiculously embarrassed. 

The eating is one thing, and sex is another, but they’ve never really brought the two together. Unless it’s ice cream in bed after sex, or dinner and then sex, but Remus never whispers sweet nothings about how fat Sirius is while they screw, and he touches Sirius’s belly and his hips, thighs but it’s the same way he touched him when he was thin, and sometimes it doesn’t feel any different.

People treat Sirius differently. Gaining a grand total of forty something pounds during the holiday season and early spring out of spirit and domestic bliss is all good and well until Sirius can see summertime approaching and he’s still getting bigger. He doesn’t  _ want  _ to be small. The feeling of his belly in his hands is fucking fantastic, and it’s a turn on, and it’s still shameful because the whole world  _ wants _ him to be ashamed. 

Sirius sighs. “I can do the washing up.”

“Thanks.” Remus sips more juice. His eyes are soft when he looks at Sirius, and as always, when they make eye contact, he smiles. “Any plans for tomorrow?”

“Thought I might go shopping, actually, if you want to join. I need some new clothes.”

“Oh, shopping.” Remus wrinkles his nose. “Maybe ask Lily.”

“Might do.” Sirius’s belly aches and he wonders how he’s supposed to do up his trousers again in order to stand up and clear the dishes. As Remus drinks his juice and hums with the radio, Sirius sucks in the pudge of his belly and barely manages to button his trousers.

Upon standing up, he can feel Remus’s eyes following him. Standing at the sink, Sirius stifles a burp. His belly rounds out and his shirt is too small, trousers are too small, and he’s sure that the strange new fat at his hips looks awful from the back. Embarrassed, he starts to clean up just for something to do.

Remus is humming a song, something new on the radio. It’s Madonna, Sirius thinks.  _ Lucky Star.  _ His chair scrapes and Sirius turns. Remus is dancing his way across the kitchen and winds his hands around Sirius’s bloated middle, kissing his neck and jaw and then his mouth. 

“Dance with me, Pads.”

“Jesus, Moony.” 

“Mmm, mmm.” Remus shakes his hips and takes Sirius’s hands, pulling him back across the kitchen. He’s a bit unsteady on his feet but his smile is so genuine, and he laughs out loud, swirling around. “ _ You must be my lucky star, ‘cause I think of you wherever you are. _ ” Seeing him dance like this makes Sirius want to love him forever and ever and ever. Makes Sirius want to marry him. But a lifetime is a long time and marriage is illegal, when it comes to the pair of them, so Sirius dances with Remus tonight and keeps the future at arm’s length. Just for now.

—

Turns out that Remus’s dad is really funny and Purim involves a lot of food. 

Sirius had not been prepared for a good night. He’d only ever heard bad things about Remus’s dad when he’d ever come up; he’s a drunk, he’s a deadbeat, he’s useless, so on and so forth. So Sirius had been nervous. He’d taken forever to get ready, trying on all his nice clothes and abandoning them for something baggy and loose, trying to cover up his big body because Remus’s dad is probably expecting someone who looks nothing like Sirius, a fat punk type with long hair and piercings and a big stupid belly.

“Does your dad know I’m fat?” Sirius had blurted out right before they’d left. Remus had been nervous too, but hidden it well by sitting on the sofa and compounding his anxiety into physical effects. He gets stomach aches from being nervous, sometimes. There’s a full moon in three days which does nothing to help, and Remus had just looked dismayed at Sirius’s question.

“It hasn’t really come up, you know, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll like you.”

“I doubt it.”

“I don’t, Sirius, maybe we shouldn’t worry.” Which was just fucking irony. As it turned out, there was blessedly little to worry about. Remus greets his dad with a bit of wary familiarity, and he says “Chag Purim Sameach,” which must be Hebrew for something important, and his dad says something else in Hebrew, which sounds bizarre with his Welsh accent, and then he invites them both in.

Lyall Lupin lives in a small house in northern Wales. He looks a lot like Remus, almost startlingly so. Same face, just as tall and thin. Lyall looks more worn, with greyer hair and deep lines in his face, and brown eyes behind thick glasses, but the differences just about end there. He’s funny but the humor hits a little hard, and the three of them hang about in the tiny kitchen while Remus does most of the food preparation, because Sirius has no idea what to do and Lyall seems more inclined to talking rather than helping.

“When Remus told me he was friends with you, now…” Lyall whistles and Sirius laughs. “I thought you were trouble, just like your family, and then he said he was  _ dating  _ you-”

“Dad…”

“And so I very much wanted to meet you, make sure Remus wasn’t getting into something dangerous, but I’m glad I have, because you’re perfectly fine. Seems like he’s doing a good job looking after you!” Sirius flushes and Remus whines at his dad to stop embarrassing him. 

“Do either of you want to  _ help?”  _ Remus asks, gesturing at the dough in front of him. Lyall swears at him before grabbing two pots to stick on the stove. Remus shows Sirius what he’s making- Hamantaschen (triangular jam cookies) and kreplach (little dumplings to fill with meat for them and potatoes and cheese for Remus), and they’ll make tabouleh and lentils too. It’s all a lot faster with magic, and Lyall plays loud folk music on his record player, and it all fills the kitchen. It feels a lot like home.

Lyall makes fun of Remus for being a vegetarian and Remus starts in on him about how disgusting meat truly is and gets all gory about it while Sirius just stuffs jam into the cookies with wide eyes, often licking some off of his fingers while the two of them banter. Lyall asks if Sirius eats meat, to which he responds with a quiet ‘yes’ and then it’s like a triumph, Lyall laughing and saying that Remus kisses the lips of a carnist! and Remus tells him to shut  _ up.  _

They sit down to eat after the strangely familiar scene of cooking and baking, and Sirius puts away more food than he’s even paying attention to just out of nerves. Lyall says that they’re not doing Purim  _ exactly  _ correctly, since it usually involves mandatory drinking and costumes, but the night is still young, and only Sirius really laughs. 

“Too soon?” Lyall asks Remus almost pointedly, and Remus only nods. “Speaking of costumes, then, Remus used to wear this chicken one- remember that?” Remus turns red and makes a face; Lyall continues. “I think we’ve actually got  _ photos _ !”

Remus protests heartily as Lyall goes about finding the photo album, but his dad ignores him and sits down right next to Sirius, flickering about past pictures of an absolutely  _ adorable  _ baby Remus to find one of him in a chicken costume. Sirius has to stop himself from squealing out loud, because Remus has his blushing face in his hands and Lyall is laughing at him. They look through more baby pictures. Remus looked so ungodly  _ sweet _ . He had a tuft of brown hair and a sunny, toothless smile, and his eyes were warm green. 

There’s photos of him in cute little onesies, him in a snowsuit, him as he grows up; reading a book, riding a tricycle, standing in front of a museum in London with his mum. It’s all on Muggle film, so Sirius assumes that Remus’s mother had been the main photographer. The photos remain happy, even after a huge awful scar shows up on Remus’s face. Him playing with a train set, him petting a dog, eating a piece of cake. Even after he was bitten, he still seemed like a happy kid, at least on film.

In person, he’s like that too. Remus had been quiet at first, at Hogwarts, but it wasn’t long before he was roped into some pranks with James and Sirius and then they realized that Remus ran his mouth just as much as the rest of them. He just had better brilliant ideas. All around champion. Remus is an optimist, a pacifist, and a cheerful soul all around. Everything Sirius loves.

Sirius had not been expecting it to be a baby photo type of night, but when the two of them finally Floo home a little after eleven, he’s honestly glad that it had been. Remus’s dad seems to like him, doesn’t mind if he eats all his Purim food, and hadn’t even made any painful comments about Sirius’s weight, which he had been expecting.

“He loved you, he honestly did, I’m so glad you two get along.” Remus says that night as they fall into bed together. Sirius lets out a quiet ‘oof’ as he sinks down onto the mattress, a little off-balanced by his full belly, and Remus pulls him close, his body all warm and safe. “Ahh, I’m so glad you came, Pads, that made me so happy. I love you so much.”

“Mmm, I love you too.” Sirius snuggles down into the blankets, his head against Remus’s chest, and they lie all entangled for a while. “Thanks for giving me a family.” It had meant more than Remus can know that Sirius was invited over to meet his dad and celebrate a holiday with them, like a real and proper boyfriend. 

“Of  _ course _ .” They talk a little while longer, all sleepy and warm. Remus’s hands drift a little bit, smoothing over Sirius’s chest and then, of course, drawn to his belly. Remus feeds him and fucks him, but he never really touches him like this, just plays with his belly. Sirius has plenty of pathetic fantasies where Remus stuffs him full and then rubs his belly, but none of them have happened yet. It’s more like Remus stuffs him full, Sirius rubs his own belly, and then they have sex.

But tonight, it’s different in a small way. Sirius is drifting off as Remus pats his belly, ever so gently, and then rubs in a comforting circle. He doesn’t push his hand up under Sirius’s shirt and doesn’t move much anymore, just keeps his hand resting on his warm stomach, and Sirius is asleep before he can remember anything else.


	3. All Excess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title says it all. ya i went a little crazy aaand i have no excuses. enjoy! (also, yeah. maybe they don't use pounds for weight in the uk but ask me if i care & the answer will doubtlessly be no!)

Sirius decides to weigh himself at long last in April, after four months of living with Remus. He wants to assess the damage for himself. Creeps into the gym in all of his fat glory and strides past all the fit people on exercise equipment and into- wait for it- the weight room. The  _ weight  _ room. Blokes (and birds!) in there are lifting and looking way fitter than Sirius is prepared for, so he averts his eyes as he wanders over to the corner, where the industrial type scale is located.

He steps on. Sighs. Looks at the bars. Sirius’s hand shakes a bit as he flicks the measure past 200 and settles neatly on 250. The scale dips. Somewhere in Sirius’s heart, there is relief. He adjusts the dials to show his weight at a neat 242, which makes that relief turn to mush, because eight pounds will just stick to him and he’ll be 250 in no time.

His weight had been fluctuating between 170 and 200 ever since Hogwarts had ended, as he usually gained some weight in the winter and dropped it during the summer, and he’s never been  _ skinny,  _ not since he lived with his parents in Grimmauld. But gaining nearly fifty pounds in a few months’ time is sort of shocking. Shameful. Sexy?

Remus definitely thinks it’s sexy, because he drops the pipe he’s packing when Sirius tells him the events of today once arriving home, and repairs the shattered glass and ground weed before staring up at Sirius with wide green eyes.

“You gained  _ fifty pounds? _ ”

“Not fifty. Like, forty two. It’s a lot.” Sirius sighs as he leans in the narrow windowsill where Remus is smoking the bowl. He holds the pipe out to Sirius, who takes a long hit off of it before passing it back. 

“Are you okay?” Remus asks behind a cloud of smoke. He waves it away and puts the pipe down on the sill, turning his full attention to Sirius. “I mean, like. With it? Are you happy? D’you think we should talk about boundaries?”

“What?”

“Like, with this. With the eating and gaining and everything.” Sirius only shrugs. Remus doesn’t pick the pipe back up. He’s still looking at Sirius all genuine and serious. Oh, god, he’s for real. He wants to  _ communicate.  _ They had some issues with boundaries back at Hogwarts, basically all of which have been solved ever since they’ve grown up and learned to be honest with each other.

Besides, Sirius doesn’t think that they have boundary issues. Sure, sometimes the feeding borders something forceful but Sirius likes it that way. “I’d tell you if it was ever too much. You know. With food.”

“Good.”

“I swear I would, I will, so don’t worry.”

“Okay, cool.” Remus is still eyeing him almost severely. “So… how big  _ do  _ you want to get?” Sirius feels himself blush and Remus smiles, his face softening. Sirius reaches for the pipe and lights up, taking another hit, and hands it back to Remus to repack the bowl. The windowsill is very narrow and fits Remus’s bony bum, but Sirius hasn’t fit onto it since last year. His legs are growing tired of standing, so he sits down on the floor. Remus joins him. 

“... Because you said you want to be huge,” Remus continues, “And huge is very perceptive.”

“Three hundred at least,” Sirius mumbles to the ground. Remus stretches his feet out and pokes Sirius’s leg with his fuzzy socks. “Probably… I dunno. Maybe four hundred, in the end.”

“Seriously?!” Remus sounds shocked, but when Sirius looks up quickly, he only sees excitement in his boyfriend’s hazel eyes. “You’re going to murder me, Pads, are you taking the piss?”

“No…”

“Shit, I want to see four hundred!” Remus laughs. “I’ll make it happen, alright?”

“Sounds good.” Sirius smiles too, relaxing into the acceptance. “I dunno why, it sort of embarasses me to think about.” He cups his face with his hands and sighs again. “I weighed myself in the gym today and everyone was so  _ fit.  _ And I’m so…  _ not _ .”

“Well, that’s the point, innit?”

“Yeah, I know. I just. This is sort of permanent. I mean, I’m not diligent enough to ever lose it, if I end up wanting to. Once I’m  _ that  _ fat, there’s no going back.” Remus is quiet. Maybe this is Sirius communicating, who knows. 

“You don’t know that.” His tone is gentle. “And even if you do want to lose it, you can.” Sirius cringes and Remus chuckles. “The fact that you flinched at the mention of weight loss makes me feel like you’re going to be fine, Sirius. But you can take it slow.”

“Nah, fuck taking it slow. I want to hit two fifty before next week.” Remus rolls his eyes and then moves across the floor sort of awkwardly, ending up sitting on top of his folded knees in front of Sirius, all awkwardly long limbs and weed smell and that look in his eyes that makes Sirius feel like there’s butterflies in his belly. Remus kisses Sirius and gives him a little tongue, and they move to communication in the way they’re a little more familiar with.

**-**

“God damn, I’m bloated.” Sirius smooths his fingers over the oversized The Who shirt that he’s been wearing for years and examines himself in the mirror. His belly has begun to press at the shirt. Not enough to really strain, but it’s there either way, and frankly undeniable. 

From the bathroom, Remus calls, “Haven’t eaten anything yet, have you?” Sirius stops preening and instead just stares at himself in dismay. Remus is so horribly correct. It’s impossible to be bloated without having eaten anything, right? Does this mean that Sirius is just… fat? 

Impossible.

Sirius lifts up the t-shirt to examine his belly, which has grown rather soft. He looked sort of stupid when he first started gaining; his stomach stuck out like a rounded basketball, skin stretched over it, little fat and more just food. Now, there’s fat under his skin and not just food crammed into him. There’s soft love handles curving out at his hips and framing his belly, which is rounded and soft. When Sirius moves both hands across it, it even wobbles. And- oh  _ god.  _ Are those stretch marks? Red marks on the place where his belly curves out the most, where his skin had to stretch the most, and then Remus is coming so Sirius drops his shirt back down and pretends to look innocent. 

Remus steps out of the bathroom wearing only his boxers, towel drying his tawny hair. Sirius gets lost in him, watching his scarred arms move as he drags the towel around his hair, or the angles of his lean body. Remus looks at Sirius and holds his eye contact. He smiles, as always, and Sirius responds with a grin. 

Remus wanders over to the dresser to pick out some clothes, and says, “James and Lily wanted to go get dinner tonight, since you’re not closing. Do you want to?”

“What, like, out?”

“Yeah, to a restaurant or something.”

“Oh, sure! Yeah. Double date.”

“Haven’t done it in a while.”

“Sounds good.”

“Plans aren’t really firm yet, but you can call them before work, I guess, and ask what’s up.”

“Okay.” Sirius has also gone about getting dressed, and has to jump around the bedroom to get into his jeans. It’s a direct contrast to Remus, who takes deliberate steps into his trousers and pulls them up over his thin legs with no fuss. Remus has to wear a belt, sometimes, to get his trousers to stay up. Sirius, on the other hand, wears a belt to get his to stay  _ put. _

He sucks in his bloated stomach which is not bloated but, in fact, simply a big, fat, awful stomach and zips them alright but has distinct trouble doing up the button. Remus is busy doing up the buttons on his own shirt which fits  _ perfectly,  _ while Sirius makes a weak noise of discomfort as he finally gets the button done. Very slowly, he releases his belly back out into the world, and sends a quick mental thank you to God for letting his favorite jeans hang on for one more day.

They’re his favorite because they’ve fit him for forever, and they make his ass look good, but they’re skinny enough at the leg to be striking. Maybe Sirius should be describing them in a past tense, because they don’t look so good on him anymore. He’d gone shopping for new trousers and bigger shirts a few months ago, but he’s been on a somewhat steady rate of gaining ten or so pounds a month, and these jeans have been with him since before the Christmas season. 

No, they don’t fit. Yes, they give him a dramatic muffin top that’s only accentuated by the thin fabric of his shirt. Sirius spends the day in a state of discomfort, tugging at the waist of his jeans to keep them up and plucking at his shirt to keep it from clinging to the round curve of his belly. He has four classes one after another and afterwards rushes to the library to read over a letter that Benjy sent this morning, detailing the parts needed to assemble a very fucking special kind of motorbike that he hopes they’re being paid plenty for.

Only a few weeks left of classes. Jesus, it feels like he was just muddling through finals week and here he is, having to suffer through again. That’s how school is, was, and will always be. Work, work, work. Sirius needs a holiday. Maybe, just maybe, they might honestly be able to take one. He makes good money off of the motorbike business and the added income from the restaurant is always helpful. Remus works on and off odd jobs, so Sirius is the main source of their income. 

After leaving home, he got nothing at all from his family, not that he was expecting any. Sirius has been working as hard as he can to keep himself afloat and he’s doing fine, now, steady on his feet but it’s still tiring. Of course it is. Sirius just hopes it will all pay off one day.

Sirius calls Lily through a payphone on the street right before work. She tells him to meet them at seven at an Italian restaurant nearby, and Sirius’s belly growls just thinking about it. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast and won’t have a chance to snack while working, so resigns himself to hold out until dinner.

But work sucks. It had been a long day, and Sirius’s back hurts. He’s sort of friends with other servers, some more than others, and there’s a strange crowd today. Eric, a sort of awkward bloke is training a new young server named Maggie. Malcolm, this grizzled old fellow who walks with a limp and scares Sirius but has a sort of good sense of humor, is in a bad mood today and none of them talk too much. In between tables, Sirius stands behind the bar at the server station and thinks about how wonderful dinner is going to be, once all this tosh is over. It’s a long fucking day, and not nearly close enough to over.

**-**

_ Fuck,  _ Sirius is late. His uniform shirt seems to be on its last legs, despite the numerous stretching charms that it has undergone. The maroon material clings tightly to his belly and is, at this point, almost painfully tight around his arms and shoulders. Whenever he needs to reach up for something on the shelf like condiments or extra silverware, his shirt rides up and exposes his round belly.

His black slacks don’t fare much better. Everything is sticking to his swollen body, and Sirius has to take a few deep breaths to get a hold on himself in the bathroom. He smells like greasy food, his hair is pushed out of his face with a bandana, which looks stupid, and he’s spilling out of his clothes, despite having eating next to nothing today. And his restaurant-grade shoes are fucking ugly, so. 

So he’s late and there’s no time to change. So he shows up and there’s already food on the table and Sirius tries to forget that he’d been on the verge of tears and his day has been long and tiring and plain awful. Because Remus is kissing him quickly on the cheek before making room for him in the booth, and James and Lily are asking him about his day, and the food smells  _ amazing. _

There’s garlic bread, and fried zucchini, cheese sticks, a big spinach salad, assorted pasta dishes, and a steak.

“It’s for you,” Remus tells Sirius as he slides the plate over towards him, “I know Thursdays are tough.”

“I love you,” Sirius tells him through a mouthful of soft, juicy steak. “Thank you.” Now that he’s arrived, they all dig in. Sirius practically inhales the heavy steak and moves on to the lasagna; crispy on top and gooey and melting on the inside. He mops up sauce with greasy, cheesy bread, and continues to eat plate after plate of cheesy, delicious carbs. Remus keeps refilling his plate: “Try  _ this,  _ try  _ that,  _ ooh, Sirius, do you want more?”

When everyone else has stopped eating, Sirius becomes self consciously aware that he’s still chewing faithfully. His belly is achingly full with food, but he’s much too embarrassed to put his hands anywhere near his stomach in case James and Lily notice. Well. Sirius is sure that his weight gain is generally obvious, but he’s not  _ that  _ big, not big enough to really notice. Right? He  _ feels  _ that big right now. His belly rounds out onto his thighs, aching with the weight of food inside it, and Sirius pants wearily. He’s full to his lungs. 

Lily asks, “Anyone going to finish that? Or else I’ll take it home, but I doubt we’ll eat it.” She’s gesturing at a decently sized pile of fettuccine alfredo that Remus makes a grab for and dumps onto Sirius’s plate. 

“You have room for more, right?” Remus asks, gently nudging Sirius’s thick thigh with his own bony one. 

“Of course,” Sirius responds breathlessly. He takes a moment to catch his breath before starting. His shirt is straining to cover up his stomach, and his trousers dig in so tightly to his stomach and waist that it genuinely hurts. Despite the fact that the last thing Sirius needs is another plate of pasta, he diligently swirls the cream covered noodles onto his fork and starts eating. Sirius knows that he’s making a mess of himself. There’s sauce smeared around his mouth and he’s pathetically breathless, huffing breaths out of his nose as he slurps down the thick noodles. Every bite is a mix of pleasure and torture, and Remus only helps by rubbing his thigh under the table. 

By the time Sirius finishes his plate, he feels full to bursting. “You’re going to have to roll me out of here,” He grumbles to the table.

“Maybe after dessert, we will.” Lily explains. Sirius had all but forgotten about dessert. 

“I’m not sure if I can manage anymore, honestly.” At this, the table goes up in loud protest: “Come on Sirius, just a bit more, Sirius, the dessert is really good here, Sirius, why would you pass up on it?” 

So Sirius appeases them by ordering a small piece of key lime pie. Remus gets a huge slice of chocolate cake that is wilting gently under the heavy frosting on top. Remus regards his own cake, and then Sirius’s pie. James and Lily are sharing a cannoli.

“Swap!” Remus says much too cheerfully. “I’m bored of chocolate.” And he switches the plates and starts eating Sirius’s pie before he can even protest. The cake, by the way, is delicious. It’s rich and moist, and Sirius eats with newfound energy until the last few bites. Everything seems to catch up with him all at once. Sirius can only take shallow sips of air. His belly is packed full with food and is incredibly rounded out from all the stuffing. Sirius pants for breath as he finishes the cake and has to physically restrain himself from groaning out loud or reaching a hand down to soothe his aching belly.

He also has to ignore the fact that he’s half hard. For no good reason. For  _ no  _ good reason. Remus is obviously feeling frisky as he takes Sirius back to his flat in London.  _ Their  _ flat, now that Remus has moved in. Sirius is exhausted and hopelessly overstuffed; his work uniform straining at the seams. He feels sweaty and tired and full. 

They get ready for bed. Sirius complains about needing a new uniform for work and Remus gets stupidly wide eyed as he watches his boyfriend struggle out of said uniform. Sirius stays in his blessedly stretchy boxer briefs and pulls on his familiar The Who shirt to sleep in- the material of it soft from wear. His belly is definitely pushing up against it, now, which is sort of awful and arousing at the same time. 

That night, for the first time, Remus takes a hands-on approach to helping Sirius feel better. Sirius props himself up with pillows against the headboard while Remus puts on a record, something familiar. Sonic Youth, maybe. They always lie in bed relaxing for a while before sleep- talking, listening to music, making out a bit if they like. Neither of them ever fall asleep right away and Remus says that creating a calming atmosphere before sleep is an essential way for better rest.

Maybe it’s hippie shit. And when he’s full like this, Sirius can fall asleep in a second. That’s neither here not there. Tonight, their pre-bedtime chill zone leads Remus to finally place a wandering hand on the tight curve of Sirius’s belly, and then he draws it in a circle. Sirius shifts his hips lower, curving his belly into the touch, and Remus glances at him with soft, curious eyes.

“Feels good,” Sirius mumbles. “I kind of overdid it.” Remus squeezes the fat at his hip, still moving slowly and hesitantly. 

“It’s my fault. Was that okay…?” Remus eyes flicker across Sirius’s again. He’s so nervous about this that it’s funny. Sirius responds in motions rather than words. He shifts even closer to Remus and then, boldly, puts his own hand on top of Remus’s and holds it there on the bloated swell of his stomach.

Remus is bushing down his neck like a fucking schoolboy. His red skin turns the scars on his face white, and he just gives Sirius a gummy smile before patting his belly, leaning over, and kissing him. He pulls back, looks at Sirius, and says, “I fucking love you like this, it’s insane. You’re making me go mad. Honestly unfair. Jesus.” He pats Sirius’s belly again. It’s too stuffed to jiggle much. They lie there for a long while, touching like that. 

Remus is obsessed. There’s no way around it. He rubs, squeezes, pats, and pushes in all the right ways, loosening up more space in Sirius’s belly and easing the hot tension that overstuffing himself had created. He makes Sirius feel more comfortable in his body- not just physically but mentally, as well. The adoring touches make him feel… confident, almost. It’s bizarre. It’s so fucking hot.

Remus traces the stretch marks around Sirius’s belly, hands skimming over the bulges of fat. There are fresh purpley ones along the sides of his tummy. The older ones have moved with his skin; now faded red around and above his belly button. Sirius realizes, with a little bit of a shock, that those red marks used to be around his hips, where the new ones are. Sirius tells this to Remus.

“Oh, are you kidding?” Remus asks, poking at the older marks. “Wow, you’ve gained so much.”

“I’ve got some on my arms, too.” Sirius is just showing off, now, and holds out a doughy upper arm for Remus to examine. 

“Where else?” Remus asks, kissing the impossibly soft skin on Sirius’s inner arms. He moves over him, straddling but holding himself off of Sirius’s belly so as not to make him uncomfortable. Remus kisses Sirius’s lips, then, his neck, his chest, and down to his belly, sucking at the soft skin and the ridged stretch marks, the uneven cellulite on his thighs, everything and everywhere.

Even after they flip the record, and even after it stops playing, they stay up. Way late.

**-**

After that night at the Italian restaurant, things pick up. 

Remus throws himself into cooking with a fearsome dedication. Lily gave him a cookbook for his birthday and he rolls through every recipe he can find, and Sirius eats anything, the least picky person in the world. So he diligently eats whatever Remus makes, however many portions Remus hands him, and when all is said and done, Sirius will end up on the sofa or bed, his belly heavy and full, Remus straddling him, touching him, hands all over Sirius’s soft belly like he’s fucking obsessed.

And sometimes they go kind of hard. Take tonight, for example.

It starts with getting stoned, which is a recipe for fun. Since they’ve started this strange feeding/gaining situation, Sirius has been able to fit more and more food into his stretched out stomach. He’d stuff himself throughout the day and wake up the next hungrier than ever. He’s been eating a  _ lot,  _ and eating what he used to before this all started would just leave his belly empty and gurgling for more. 

Getting high turns his stomach into a black fucking hole. He can eat anything and everything. As much as Remus wants. Even while being overstuffed, all it takes is some downtime and belly rubs to make a little more space, and Sirius will be ready for more in no time. His appetite while high is endless. 

They smoke in the afternoon, fuck around for a while, and then Sirius’s belly growls so Remus decides it’s time to start cooking. Sirius follows Remus into the kitchen and heaves his fat arse up onto a part of the counter that’s not in the way and watches Remus cook. He’s put a cassette in his 8-track player, Sticky fucking Fingers, which is just obscene. Takes Sirius right back to Hogwarts. Remus nods along to ‘Brown Sugar’ as he assembles his ingredients. 

“What’re you making?”

“A veggie pot pie.”

“Oh, good.” Remus looks up at him and smiles. “I’m starved.”

“It’ll be ready faster if you help!” Sirius and Remus cook side by side, both of them dancing a bit to the music as they work. Sirius is cutting an assortment of vegetables that Remus keeps throwing into a big pot that smells delicious. Once they’ve finished the filling, Remus assembles the pie itself, and brushes it with an egg wash with tender care.

He sticks it in the oven and casts a spell to accelerate the oven heat. “It’ll be about fifteen minutes, soo…” Sirius thinks that Remus is going to kiss him or palm him or do something interesting, but instead he just swoops by him, singing along loudly to ‘You Gotta Move’, and only kisses Sirius on the cheek before whipping a loaf of bread out of the breadbox and slicing it neatly in two. Sirius watches with interest as Remus sticks about an entire stick of cut up butter in the bread, throws some garlic and rosemary in between, and then adds it to the oven.

“Dessert?” Sirius asks. Remus only shrugs.

“I’ll figure it out later.”

The pie has eight servings, so Sirius gets six pieces of buttery, flaky pot pie with the rich sauce inside, vegetables soft and spiced just right. It’s all so warm and delicious, and the garlic bread alongside adds this insatiable kick to it. Sirius is four slices deep before he has to take a break and leans back in his chair, gently rubbing his belly while Remus looks on in jealousy.

“Full?” He asks.

“Not even close.” Sirius is lying. He is full. He’s always full, these days. His capacity has increased a lot over the past months, but he’s also come to realize that there is a difference between full and stuffed, and the line is often blurred. Sirius may be full, but there’s room for more. 

So he keeps going. Jesus, the pie is so good. The gravy in it is all buttery and thick, so warm and filling, and the crust is all flaky with lard. Sirius finishes the rest of it, barely breathless, and puts away the rest of the garlic bread after checking that Remus doesn’t want any more. Sirius sucks the grease off of his fingers and smiles across the table at Remus, who looks helplessly entranced. 

Stevie Nicks is serenading them and Remus scratches at his stubbled jaw, green eyes thoughtful, quieter than usual.

“What’s up?” Sirius asks him. He’s still stoned and eager to do something, anything. There’s a late summer storm blowing through and it’s been raining all day. 

“Thinking about dessert,” Remus muses. Trust him. “What if I made brownies?” Sirius’s eyes light up. Remus grins. “I’ll make brownies. Oh, we could have so much fun tonight. If you smoke a little more…” The unspoken is mostly that if Sirius smokes a little more, he could eat a  _ lot  _ more, and Remus stands up with that evil little smile on his face.

They have the whole evening ahead of them, and they take it slow. They relocate to the couch to watch whatever’s on telly and chill for a bit, sharing a pint of ice cream. There’s an American sitcom on Channel 4 called Family Ties that they watch for a while, casually interested and at the same time bored by the constant references that they don’t understand.

“She looks like you,” Remus says, pointing at the screen with his spoon.

“Who?”

“Mallory.” Sirius frowns at the dark haired girl on screen. Remus swipes a hand through Sirius’s bangs as though to demonstrate. “You’ve got the same hair. Very healthy, like. You should find out her hair care routine.”

“Can’t be any better than mine!” Sirius touches his hair, a little insecure. “Is it really like hers? All feathered? I don’t feather my hair, for the record.”

“Yours is much better.” Satisfied, they return to the show. After a while, Remus grows frustrated by the politics and starts on a rant about Thatcher versus Reagan, a battle which Sirius doesn’t need to hear about, so he burrows down into the sofa cushions and finishes off the ice cream once Remus starts talking with his hands, which is how you know he’s getting into it. Besides, Sirius is kind of full.

He rubs at his belly and attempts to nod along at the same time, listening to Remus carry on, his Welsh accent becoming progressively stronger until he asks, with breathless finality, “Are you with me?” 

“Moony, Reagan is running America into the ground and then fucking beyond. Look at AIDS, like. It’s a complete bloody disaster, and it’s awful. That man’s got blood on his hands. Not to mention the disaster he’s done to their economics. What’s Thatcher done? She took away our milk, given, and that business with the Poll Tax-”

“Sirius, the Poll Tax is absolutely abominable and she should be fucking shot for it-”

“Yeah, okay, we’re living in an awful state of-” Sirius hiccups- “undeniable conservatism and maybe the world is falling apart, but can’t you have this conversation with Caradoc?” Remus frowns at him. Sirius braces for a lecture on the importance of paying attention to politics, but none comes. 

“...And the hunger strikes in Ireland,” Remus adds as a petulant afterthought, and Sirius just sighs.

**-**

Politics are important, but brownies are too. (If not more so.) 

Remus brings some out to the living room, where Sirius is lying in a freshly stoned haze on the cushy sofa. The whole flat smells like warm chocolatey goodness, and Sirius is more excited than he’d like to admit about the events to come.

“Padfoot, you’re about to have your mind fucking  _ blown _ .” Sirius sits up over his full belly to see Remus carrying a mixing bowl that he sets down with pride. There’s even more ice cream inside, and a few gooey brownies that have been topped with fudgey chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and peanut butter. 

“Fuck me,” Sirius says. “You’re going to kill me.” Remus is licking chocolate off of his fingers, apparently already having helped himself to a brownie, but he pushes the bowl into Sirius’s hands and then they get started. 

For a while, Sirius gets lost. The brownies are so good. Crackly on top, but they’re so heavy with thick fudge and rich chocolate. The warmth of the brownie mixes easily with the simple vanilla ice cream, all rich and creamy. The flavors, the textures, the alternating heat of the brownies and fudge, and then the soft cool of the ice cream and whipped cream… Sirius can’t stop. He eats and eats until the bowl is empty and then Remus refills it over and over, always bringing more, until Sirius is whimpering and sighing as he keeps eating, Remus murmuring encouragements as he rubs Sirius’s stuffed belly, squeezing and patting and pressing in all the right spots to help the food move down, making more space.

“There’s only a few left,” Remus tells him cheekily. “Do you think you can manage more?”

“Oh, fine. Sure. To hell with it.” Sirius watches Remus bop back into the kitchen and shifts uncomfortably on the sofa. His belly has become rather unmanageable as of recent. He hasn’t weighed himself since April, but now it’s August, and he’s sure that he must be somewhere around three hundred pounds at this point. He certainly  _ feels  _ like it.

Whenever he moves, his stomach is in the way. Sirius sits up straight on the sofa, and his belly mounds up in his lap. He stretches, trying to lift some of the sweaty weight off of his lap, but not all of it rises up. Some of it just stubbornly stays. Too big to completely lift. When Remus gets back with the last four brownies, he settles in next to Sirius and does the unthinkable.

He slides one hand under the overhang of Sirius’s belly, where the skin is smooth and sweaty, cupping the soft fat there. The other hand wields a brownie, which Remus feeds to Sirius by hand. Having his overstuffed belly held at the softest curve, Remus’s hand squeezing the fat gently, and being hand fed at the same time is causing Sirius’s brain to short circuit, so he does what he knows best, and eats. 

Two of the brownies go down okay. Sirius has real trouble with the last two. He’s breaking a sweat and groans softly as Remus presses another brownie against his lips.

“Hold on, just.” Remus sits back a bit, watching Sirius closely.

“Alright?”

“Yeah, ugh, just…” Sirius rubs both hands around his bloated belly and shifts his hips underneath it, trying to get comfortable. “Can you, er, can you just scoot back a bit?” Remus moves back across the sofa and tucks his long legs underneath him. Sirius moves his thick thighs apart, groaning in relief as his belly spreads out in between them. His shirt has long since been rolled up and when Sirius looks down, all he can see is the hugely swollen dome of his belly. He pats and massages the upper curve of it, working out some burps, face heating as Remus watches him almost greedily.

Sirius finishes those last two brownies. Loudly, and when he’s done, he’s breathless and moaning around every mouthful, completely stuffed full. Remus is all red in the face as though  _ he’s  _ the one who ate the majority of a pot pie, a loaf of garlic bread, a quart of ice cream, and an entire pan of brownies all within a few hours’ time. He takes his job at rubbing Sirius’s belly very seriously, and his touches feel so good that despite it all, Sirius finds himself sort of horny, the tiniest bit hungry, and very, very full. All at the same time.

Remus runs his rough, scarred hands down and around the curve of Sirius’s tummy while Sirius sighs at the feeling. Remus lifts up the overhang just to let it flop back down between Sirius’s thighs, ever so gently squeezing the rolls of fat mounding at his hips. Sirius takes deep breaths all the while and makes little noises whenever Remus does something he really likes. 

After a while, Remus goes and gets him some water. He tells him that he’s got to drink to help digest, so Sirius obeys. It makes his stomach all gurgly and sloshy, which just makes Remus even touchier, always cupping the softest part of his underbelly or rubbing a circle round the tightest, firmest part of his stuffed stomach. Sirius is still breathless, his soft underbelly spilling out from under his shirt and being cut into by his jogging bottoms. They’re supposed to be  _ stretchy.  _

“Ugh, I need to take off my trousers.”

“I’ll never complain.”

“Help me.” Remus is eager to. Sirius drags the bottoms over his ass and then shimmies out of them, dragging them down his thighs and at last freeing himself from some stupid fucking trackpants that should fit. He’s left in his stretchy boxers that do, actually, stretch, and a big t-shirt that Remus keeps rolling up when he rubs Sirius’s belly. 

He touches Sirius’s lower belly, trying to shake the flab there, but the skin is pulled too tight by the weight of food in his stomach, and only the soft lower roll and love handles wobble a little bit. Remus cups the fat around the overhang, smoothing his hands over Sirius’s strained tummy, and then makes eye contact with him.

“I want you so stuffed that there’s no give.”

Sirius hiccups in response. “I dunno if that’s possible. Some of it’s just… fat.”

“I want you to eat until you literally can’t anymore.” Remus smooths his hand over Sirius’s belly again and Sirius curves into the touch, craving the gentle warmth. “Okay?’

“Okay,” Sirius breathes. “I’ve still got room. I mean. I’m high. I’ll eat anything, and everything. Oh, Jesus.” Just thinking about more food is exciting him. “Can we get a takeaway? Oh, shit, Moony, would you be willing to go get me  _ McDonald’s? _ ” Remus is staring at him with wide eyes. It’s raining out, and they’re stoned, and it’s so late at night. Is McDonalds even open? Remus would know.

“Yes,” Remus tells him. “If you eat everything I bring for you.”

“Deal.”

**-**

It’s easier said than done. 

Sirius smokes what’s left in Remus’s grinder before he gets back and hopes that they haven’t finished all the weed in one day. Despite his awfully full stomach, Sirius still puts on some music, because all he wants to do while high is dance. He puts on their tape of ‘Speaking in Tongues’ and grooves around the flat (slowly, and carefully) until Remus gets back. Turns it off before the sad stuff can start, because there’s no room for sentimental tears tonight. 

Remus returns with two Big Macs and three packets of chips, because he says he wants one for himself. Sirius considers telling him that the chips are probably fried in some sort of animal fat, then thinks no, then thinks… yeah. Only ethical.

“You know the chips might be fried in lard?” Sirius asks around a mouthful of them. Remus looks stricken.

“Seriously?!” 

“I don’t know for sure…”

“Oh, fucking hell.” Remus drops the packet he’d been holding and shoves it towards Sirius. “There you go, then. I need to do research into it. Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course.” Sirius shoves another handful of chips in his mouth. “Are you hungry? There’s always crisps!”

“No, it’s fine. Here, let me help…” And he raises one of the burgers to Sirius’s mouth. It takes a while for everything to go down. Sirius is pushing his limits, at this point. The chips are okay because he can just stuff them in his mouth, chew, swallow, and they’re light and easy. But the burgers… the first one is fine. It hurts, sort of a lot, a tight aching in his chest and his belly protesting out loud, gurgling while Sirius pats at it, trying to get it to compromise.

He’s not even hungry anymore. He doesn’t  _ want  _ that last burger. But Remus asks “You’ve room for more, right?” and Sirius realizes after all that it won’t taste so good the next day, and it’s all juicy and cheesy and fuck it, he starts eating. He tries to do it quickly so his stomach can catch up later, but halfway through, Sirius is hit with an overwhelming sensation of the food crawling back up his throat.

He sits back, groaning, and Remus holds the burger back to frown at him. 

“I’ll finish, I swear, just give me a minute.” The minute turns into maybe ten. Sirius has never been this full in his life and at this point, there really is no softness to his belly. When he rubs it, there’s no squishy give. “Got your wish,” He tells Remus, who has been watching with quiet interest. “I’m fucking stuffed to the brim.”

“Not quite yet.”

“No, not yet.” Sirius finishes the second Big Mac loudly. Louder than ever. He gives a mighty groan after swallowing the last bite, leaning back onto the sofa cushions that he’d propped under himself, both hands on his belly. Remus sits forward, flushing like a freak, rubbing Sirius’s sides and babbling stupid encouragments to him.

“Good job, baby, you did so well. Oh, you did so well.” Sirius hiccups and then groans, pawing at his enormously swollen belly. “Jesus, Sirius, I didn’t think you’d follow through. That’s more food than anyone’s ever eaten, like, ever.”

“I’m a man of my word, aren’t I?”

“Pheww…” Remus taps his fingers along the dome of Sirius’s belly and presses up against his thigh. Sirius can feel Remus’s hard length through his trousers and feels himself flush even more. “Sirius, my god…” And Remus is rubbing up against him, trying to get some friction just through his trousers, and Sirius wants to help him but is too full to move. “D’you, uh, do you mind if I…” Remus is losing his mind, literally going crazy, his eyes are already half closed as he unzips his trousers and Sirius can only watch in a stoned, stuffed haze as he touches himself, hand jerking up and down, sighing and gasping and coming onto Sirius’s belly, his green eyes glazed.

He presses up close against Sirius, mumbling obscenities to him, and finishes as a panting, gasping mess.

“Sorry,” Remus whispers after he’s finished, “Sorry, I’ll clean up.” Like a madman, he picks up Sirius’s abandoned joggers and wipes up his belly with them, saying he’ll clean them and he doesn’t want to move, and then he tells Sirius he loves him and Sirius could laugh at the hilarity of this crazy fucking situation if it wouldn’t hurt so much to do so. 


	4. Half Baked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things get sexy. added one last chapter because i can't help myself

As the months pass by and they delve back into the holiday season once again, Sirius realizes that he’s gotten really, much bigger. None of his cold-weather clothes from last year fit- he’s spilling out of sweaters, bursting buttons on old trousers, and having trouble zipping up winter coats. Sometimes, his own weight gain catches him by surprise.

When Sirius catches glimpses of himself in reflective surfaces, he’s surprised for a moment. There’s Sirius Black- with the hair and the eyes and the tattoos, but he’s wide. Soft. With a double chin, and flabby arms, and a wobbly belly. He didn’t used to be this way, and sometimes, for a moment, he’s embarrassed. 

He doesn't know why. Maybe because it makes him look lazy, or unhealthy, but he’s neither of those things. Remus drags Sirius with him to the doctor whenever he goes for checkups (which is often, given his medical paranoia that struck in after his mum died of a cancer that had been eating away at her for years), and Sirius is fine. He has no insulin resistance and his heart is strong. The only trouble is that he’s out of breath all the time, but that’s not so bad.

Sirius has spent the last six hours on his feet, for your information, and is suffering quietly about it, just so you know. He’s not  _ completely _ incompetent, if incompetent at all. Besides, Sirius is quitting his job at the restaurant soon, after the holidays are over. He’s never truly enjoyed it save for the free food and extra income, but he and Benjy’s business is taking off (quite literally) as they’ve mastered the levitation spells, water repelling charms, and have been looking into pyrotechnics just for the fun of it.

They make good money. Remus recently was roped into doing research in the Spirit division of some Ministry position that Sirius isn’t bothered with. He has to keep his head down as an unregistered werewolf, but his work is good enough that no one’s bothered by the monthly absences or how he sometimes shows up bruised and half asleep.

The full moons were much worse at Hogwarts, and Remus got much less violent once he had Padfoot and Prongs for company, but now it’s a stagnant lack of progress. Holidays come, though, and despite the foodservice industry and lycanthropy as a whole, Sirius and Remus put their all into the festive cheer.

Remus brings Sirius back to his dad’s for the first night of Hanukkah, which makes Sirius feel all warm and fuzzy and wanted. Remus has celebrated for as long as Sirius has known him, but at Hogwarts he would meet up with other Jewish students to light the menorah each night. But they’ve been celebrating together for years, now, and Sirius knows Maoz Tzur by heart and sings along quite cheerfully.

With Hanukkah comes great food, as well. Remus makes homemade latkes and feeds them to Sirius until he can’t move, and thick doughy challah bread, and the crispiest, yummiest, most delicious kugel in the entire world. Eight nights of stuffing in a row and on the eighth, Remus comes home with a whole box of Sufganiyot, which is just too much to handle.

“Lily made them for us,” Remus explains as he sets the box on the counter. “Don’t they look wonderful? It’s so kind of her.” Sirius peers into the box and his eyes must have widened, because Remus laughs and hands a donut to him before taking one of his own. There’s at least fifteen donuts in the box, and they’re still warm, probably under a stasis charm.

And- jesus. They  _ are  _ wonderful. The dough on the outside is crisp and warm, gently covered with powdered sugar, and Sirius bites in to taste warm, sweet raspberry jam. The donuts are plump and heavy, and Remus throws in the towel after three, but Sirius just can’t help himself. He finishes six before deciding to save some for later, but then Remus feeds him three more until his belly aches and he’s licking jam from Remus’s fingers like a pervert. But it tastes so good, and it’s like home and yeah, Sirius loves the holiday season.

James buys him a scale for Christmas, because he’s not as dumb as he looks, and obviously sees Remus’s face go red when Sirius unwraps it. Remus tells James thank you even though it’s not his gift and everyone laughs about it, but Remus goes sort of bonkers when they get home and insists that Sirius try it out, you know, why not, and they find out that he’s gained over a hundred pounds since last Christmas, and then they have really good sex.

The gain sort of slows down in the spring. Remus refers to it as a plateau, one night, holding a handful of Sirius’s tummy fat which suggests that maybe it’s okay to slow down, if you can lift up handfuls of the jiggling fat that pools in your lap. Despite it all, Sirius feels small. Even at over 300 pounds, he feels small.

And even though he’s quit at the restaurant and has a big research project going on at school, Sirius is sort of worn down by mundanity. He misses pulling pranks and a motorbike that was his own, and no one else’s, and thinking about the big wide open future. Because they’re living the future and it’s just adulthood. It’s just everyday life and maybe they should take a holiday after all.

Still saving.

Remus is tired, too. The both of them are. Sirius is sick of school and his plateau, and Remus is dizzy from pre-full moon sickness. Sirius cooks them dinner tonight, matzo ball soup. Something Remus can keep down, but warm and comforting all the same. They eat it in bed because Remus doesn’t want to move much, and afterwards, he just rests his head on Sirius’s round belly while Sirius plays with his hair.

Remus cries after a while. Just like that day, now years ago, when Sirius walked in on him sobbing to the Talking Heads concert on telly. Remus sniffles and says “I’m not sad, I’m okay,” and Sirius pets his hair and tells him that it’s okay if he’s just crying for the sake of crying. That it’s okay however. Remus always gets sort of weepy before the full moons, all hormonal and caught up in the pain mixed with how he feels about Sirius taking care of him.

He says thank you over and over that night. For the soup, for the comfort, for reminding him to take his medications. It’s nothing, literally nothing to Sirius. He would do it every day for Remus, no problem. If only to see him every day. Make him smile, dance with him, listen to him rant about politics, eat his cooking, follow him to museums, follow him anywhere. It’s worth it for Remus. Anything always has been.

**-**

One day in January, Sirius and Remus are going about their usual morning routine of dressing when Remus appears to run into a problem. Sirius is tying his shoes breathlessly when he hears Remus’s quiet, resigned, “Hm.” Sirius straightens up, breathless, one hand on his hip and the other supporting the bulge of his belly. 

“What’s up, Moons?”

“These trousers don’t fit. Curious.” Remus is wearing his threadbare corduroy trousers that Sirius swears he’s owned since Hogwarts. They are rather patched. And, well. They don’t really fit. To be honest, Sirius would have said they fit, because Remus can zip  _ and  _ button them which is more than Sirius can say for some of his trousers that he’s worn until they’ve torn at the thighs or popped the buttons off. 

But Remus’s belly (since when has Remus had a belly?) strains against the waist of his trousers, and he unbuttons them. As he tugs them off, Sirius realizes that Remus’s hips are looking softer, his thighs a bit wider.

“Guess you’ve rubbed off on me,” He says.

“What?!” Sirius protests. “ _ You’ve _ been the one feeding me like a maniac for as long as we’ve known each other.” Remus shrugs carelessly and dumps the trousers on the ground.

“Guess your  _ habits  _ have rubbed off. I’ll have to buy some more.”

“I know some stretching spells?”

“They thin the material, though, and I dunno if they can withstand it.” Remus is taking this all rather well. Sirius wonders how much weight he’s put on since this feeding in their relationship began. “Oh, well.” Sirius stares at him, calculating. Remus seems completely unphased. In fact, he’s walked over to Sirius’s dresser and grins at him sheepishly before rifling through his trousers. “Something of yours will fit, right?”

**-**

So now they’re both a little fat. Remus, hardly. He’s only chubby. His face gives none of it away, with his sharp stubbled jaw and deceptively angular cheeks, but his belly’s gone soft and the rest of him too. He hides it well, because he’s used to hiding himself in public. Long sleeves, heavy jumpers and robes, coats even when it’s hot out. Remus has been covering his scars ever since he was a kid, and now there’s just a little extra pudge to cover up too.

Sirius, on the other hand, cannot hide it at all anymore. He’s really filling out. The weight used to go right to his belly, but in his odd plateau phase, the distribution changes a lot. He sort of… widens. It’s hard to describe. The fat just piles on around his hips and thighs, evening out the belly that rounds out in front, but this just invites a whole new set of problems.

Trousers are incredibly hard to find in a size that fits him- huge waist, generally short legs. There’s no cool shirts that fit, either. Sirius is left to draw on eyeliner and muss up his hair when it comes to looking hot, since he can’t do it through fashion anymore. 

It’s become deceptively hard to fit in places, too. Some chairs are a tight squeeze. The desks at uni are a fucking  _ nightmare,  _ and Sirius had barely fit the seatbelt around himself while crammed into the passenger seat of Lily’s tiny Mini. Which is delightfully exciting, all of it at once, until Sirius starts  _ losing _ weight.

“It’s probably a sign,” Remus tells him once Sirius sighs out that he’s lost ten pounds over this month for no reason at all, “That God has sent the both of us. It’s because I’m getting fat, too. This wasn’t the plan at all.”

“You look really nice, always, Moony.” They’re eating dinner, fried rice. Sirius’s stomach is aching from all he’s eaten in a blissfully familiar way, but he feels the insatiable need for more. Especially when he’s losing it, these days. Remus looks at him across the table in disbelief, his eyebrows raised.

“I dunno about nice, Sirius. It’s one thing to be all scarred and scary, but fat is just another.”

“You’re not  _ scary,  _ and besides, I thought you liked fat! Hey?” He gestures at his own body, and Remus’s eyes soften a little.

“On you,” He says a bit quietly. “I like it a lot on you. I’m just not sure about me.” His insecurity is a bit heartbreaking to Sirius, and he doesn’t know how to reply. But Remus loses weight all the time, about once a month, and his appetite dwindles around the full moon. If it makes him feel better to be a bit thinner, then Sirius won’t stop him, despite his genuine attraction to a pudgy Remus. Sirius will take him fat or thin, take him any way at all, and doesn’t mind one bit that they stay focused on Sirius’s gain, especially when it’s slow going at the moment. 

He’s been stuck around 330 pounds for fucking ever, and there’s not enough celebratory events in the spring that involve dinner parties and loads of heavy food. Summertime is all energy. Dancing, going out, walking the warm streets at two in the morning, lying in bed until two in the afternoon and then doing nothing.

It’s that kind of summer. The best, laziest, most wonderful kind of summer. The morning (afternoon) after a full moon, Remus expresses a desire for ice cream and Sirius runs down to TESCO to get it for him. There’s a heatwave and the full moon fever has left Remus sweaty and delirious, lying on their blanketless bed, windows open and a fan going even though none of it will help.

Sirius returns with multiple cartons of ice cream. Two chocolate, one caramel, one cookie dough. And some biscuits, and some donuts, just to make sure that Remus properly feels better. Remus is only wearing his boxer shorts when Sirius comes back. Golden hair all sweaty, his skin soft and slick with the heat, and he settles in next to Sirius after he puts on Quadrophenia and takes off the trousers that he tugged on just to go to the store.

“Mmmph, this is so good,” Remus says around a mouthful of ice cream. Sirius bought the expensive stuff, because of the full moon and the heat and the way he’s been overindulging for  _ forever,  _ now. It’s worth it to see that look on Remus’s face as he sucks fudge off of the spoon. “Ugh, I could eat it forever.”

And they sort of do. It’s bliss, really, just lying in that summer haze on their sweaty bed, listening to one of the best records ever written and eating ice cream together. And Remus is eating, too. Sirius watches him lose himself in it, just in the stupid ice cream. It is fucking good. It’s creamy and rich, decadent, heavy with fudge and Remus always sucks on the spoon to scrape the fudge off of it. He finishes the first carton and doesn’t even hesitate before opening the second.

“God,” He moans after finishing the second one too, “Jesus god, Sirius, why didn’t you stop me?”

“What’s wrong?” Sirius asks. He’s propped up by pillows, hand resting on the curve of his belly, listening to the crazy end of Doctor Jimmy play out. And watching Remus finish all that ice cream, but that’s beside the point.

“Ate too much.” Remus groans as he stretches out onto the bed. Among all the rugged, raised scars on his chest, his soft, round belly looks out of place. “Ugh, how do you manage it?”

“Are you asking for tips?” Remus’s face goes red and he just moans again, cradling his stomach

“So stupid… turning me into you… bought too much ice cream… ugh.” Sirius leans over to kiss Remus’s sweaty hair, which earns him a swat. “Take off your shirt so we can match, this is just so embarrassing.”

“It’s hot, you’ve a right to be naked.”

“I’m not naked, I’m  _ almost _ naked!”

“And I’m  _ always _ the one with my shirt off, anyways, you’ve really objectified me.”

“Take it off, take it off!” Remus chants, pulling at the hem of it, and so Sirius does. His belly settles out over his thighs and Remus paws gently at the farthest part of the overhang that bulges out over Sirius’s dimpled thighs. He cups the softness there, his hand so gentle, and he works his way around the thick roll of Sirius’s lower belly.

Listening to The Who, eating ice cream, and getting belly rubs. Could life get better? They lie around for a while until Remus asks about the last carton of ice cream.

“You want it?” Sirius asks in surprise. “Oh, it’s most definitely melted by now.” He huffs as he sits up straight, moving his hips back to settle his belly onto his lap and spreads his thighs as his belly mounds up in his lap, preventing him from moving. It’s always a bit of a startling struggle to get up, these days. Once Sirius is put in motion, he can stay in it for a long while, but the start and end are always a bit tough.

He leans over to pick up the carton of caramel ice cream, which is warm and squishy.

“Totally melted,” He tells Remus, who clicks his tongue.

“Drink it, then.” Sirius stares over at him.

“What?”

“Drink it.” Remus is lying there, half propped up on one elbow, lean muscle in his scarred bicep and a bit of softness on the back of it. “Just drink it like a milkshake.” Sirius gives Remus a pointed look, and Remus just starts laughing. “Come on, come on!”

“You’re-” Remus keeps giggling, “You’re a dirty minded little man, you know that? You’re a regular disturbance.”

“Just drink it! Oh please, oh Sirius, isn’t it a make-Remus-feel-better day?”

“Shut up,” Sirius says, and starts pouring the melted ice cream down his throat. It is just like a milkshake. It’s genuinely wonderful. He gulps and gulps, it’s thick and drippy and all over his mouth, now, and he’s out of breath and just choking it down, all creamy and caramel-y and fucking  _ good.  _ Sirius pauses for a moment, panting for breath, while Remus stares at him wide eyed. Then he finishes it, letting out high pitched whines as the heavy cream fills up his belly and Remus is muttering something to himself. Sirius sits back with a loud belch that shakes his belly, and he wipes his mouth, red faced and panting.

Remus has sat up and kisses him, one hand on his belly and the other around his softened jaw. Then Remus  _ licks  _ his neck. Like an ice cream come. 

“You have a bit-” He nips at the pudge of Sirius’s jaw. 

“What- ice cream?”

“Mmm, yeah, all over you.” Remus bites at his double chin again and then sucks at his neck, leaving a hickey. “Here,” He kisses his neck, “Here,” Mouthing at Sirius’s soft chest, barely grazing over his hardening nipples, and then here, here, here, Remus wobbling Sirius’s belly with both hands as he slides downwards, kissing Sirius’s thighs and then holding back his overhang to tug down his pants, mouth hot against his thighs and his hardening cock.

As Remus starts mouthing at his cock and Sirius shudders under him, he realizes that some half baked fantasy has come to life; Remus’s hand holding back his heavy overhang while blowing him, and the realization is so overwhelming to Sirius that he nearly comes right then and there. Remus is giving it to him good, today, sucking and licking in rapid strokes and then, and  _ then,  _ he has Sirius’s balls in his mouth and Sirius is really holding himself together at this point, not wanting it to be over, but he’s nearly crying because of how good it feels and Remus swipes his tongue back over his head and then there’s more to clean up than ever.

**-**

October is a romantic month in and of itself. Something about the vampires, the dark clothes, the  _ bats,  _ the candles… it does something to Sirius, who’s always had a little thing for dark creatures like werewolves, for example. 

One werewolf is going to be lucky today, because Sirius decides to do something stupid and romantic. They never go out on hot dates anymore. Maybe it’s actual adulthood creeping in, or their weak attempts to ‘budget’, but they’ve been spending a lot of time at home, when they used to go out a lot more.

Yeah, Sirius can blame it on getting older. They’re just homebodies now. Which means less dressing up, more casual sex, less special occasions and reasons to make things feel important in their own way.

Which is why Sirius had lit candles, sprinkled flower petals all over the floor (roses had been much too expensive to waste like this), and has an arsenal of whipped cream on hand because he wants Remus to lick it off of him, and he’s going to get his way.

Sirius prepares the flat with a trail of flower petals leading straight to the bedroom, some mood music playing (and don’t tell him that ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’  _ isn’t  _ music to eat whipped cream off of your fat boyfriend to), and is lying naked on the bed in a haze of scented candle smoke that is making him feel lightheaded. 

Fuck. Sirius feels like an idiot. A big fat idiot. 

Like, properly fat. 

He’s very naked, lying back in bed and hoping it might be sexy, but his body looks different. It changes all the time. The stretch marks, for one, smooth out and fade sometimes. On the days where they take it easy. But in those weeks where Remus just cooks and cooks and sometimes even orders takeaway when Sirius wants even more, angry purple stretch marks ridge over his belly where the skin has literally just stretched itself unnaturally to contain the heavy fat that Sirius is gaining.

He has tits, too, which is new. His chest is soft, and the moobs are small, but wide. Visible under shirts, too. His back is droopy with jiggling rolls, and he has a fat pad, which could easily be Remus’s favorite thing about the gain. Sirius’s belly ends in a soft, drooping roll and under that roll is another, smaller pudge of fat only visible when Sirius is naked like this. His thick thighs frame the soft pad of fat that precedes a scruff of public hair and then his cock, which is still blissfully easy to access. 

Sirius grabs at his belly to examine the bulging fat pad beneath it and scratches the warm, sweaty area under his overhang. The door shuts. Remus is home. Sirius struggles to sit up straighter and then just thinks ‘fuck it’, because it’s difficult, and when Remus wanders in with his coat half off and a curious expression on his face, Sirius feels his heart do this melting thing.

God, he’s in love.

Remus has hearts in his eyes and shucks off his coat, not even bothering with shoes as he essentially leaps on the bed, fucking drooling at the mouth because a display such as this is so rare from pathetically insecure Sirius. (Who maybe isn’t so insecure anymore after all.)

“Fuck, Pads, you look  _ amazing,  _ oh my god.” Remus directs one hand towards Sirius’s fat pad (of  _ course _ he does), squeezing at it and brushing over his hardening cock, while the other one jiggles a handful of belly as he kisses Sirius all sloppy. “Ooogh, what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion, I just love you.”

“Fuck, I love you, too...” Remus cuts himself off with kisses, on Sirius’s round face, on his pudgy chin, down his neck. “God, you’re so sexy.” Remus slaps Sirius’s belly a bit, watches it jiggle, and then buries his face in it. Sirius laughs out loud and Remus pulls up, his face red and grinning. 

“I have whipped cream.”

“Whipped cream?! Ahaha!” Remus kicks his shoes off, shucks off his trousers, and then shakes up the can before straddling Sirius with a half quirked, evil expression on his scarred face. “Shall we do a whipped cream bikini?”

“Ermmm… if you like?” Sirius watches as Remus sprays the cream onto him, big swirling gobs of it on his tits and then a cool line of it over his hardening cock. Sirius lets out a soft breath while Remus licks some whipped cream off of his fingers and then discards the can, descending on Sirius almost hungrily, his hot mouth licking and sucking the cream off of Sirius’s cock, teasing him with it, before crawling up his body to lick it off of his chest, leaving him hanging. 

“Remus…” Sirius loses himself in the feelings, the sensations, the sight of Remus, all tanned and golden, scarred and more handsome than anything, licking whipped fucking cream off of his tits, and biting at the little roll of fat that frames his nipples, and then Remus pulls back. He hovers over Sirius, straddling him but he has to spread his legs  _ wide,  _ and there’s something sparkling in his green eyes.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Remus explains. “Get up, snap to it. All fours, right now.” No  _ please,  _ no begging, no nothing. He’s in command mode and Sirius obeys. He sits up, huffing and puffing with the weight of his heavy gut in his lap, and flips over as he lifts himself up. “Oh my god.” Remus gets fucking shameless sometimes and today he wobbles Sirius’s fat as it hangs down. Sirius is red in the face, partly from exertion and partly from shame, and he feels Remus’s hands all over his bulging body. Fuck, he wishes he could see him.

“Okay, ready?”

“Yeah, ready.” Because Remus is an evil man, he takes his time with Sirius. Sirius bends his arms, trying to rest on his elbows, but Remus snaps at him to stay upright and so Sirius holds himself up as Remus stretches him, a few fingers at a time, all coated with lube and  _ harsh,  _ finger fucking him as some fast Ramones song plays. Remus slaps the hanging fat of Sirius’s gut, grabbing at it, handfuls of his belly while Sirius makes a little desperate noise, and then Remus replaces his fingers with his cock.

When Remus bottoms out, both of them are moaning, even him. Sirius is overwhelmed by the aching sting of Remus inside of him, filling him up, now moving against him, and the weight of his belly hanging down, slapping against his thighs as Remus starts  _ really  _ pushing, he’s giving it to him rough and Sirius cries out as white hot pleasure floods through him, Remus all over him, the sweat of them, the hurt of it, the way Sirius’s entire body shakes and jiggles as Remus rocks him, oh, oh,  _ oh. _

**-**

Afterwards, they lie in bed sweaty and panting and happy. Remus looks good all the time, but best during a new moon after great sex. His scarred face is so content, smiling. Green eyes soft. Take Me to the River is playing out and Remus is dancing a bit, with his shoulders and shaking his ass, and he basically flops down on top of Sirius, absentmindedly touching his belly and humming along to the music.

Remus talks about plans for dinner, and says that Lily and him are going hiking tomorrow. The invitation is offered to Sirius, who says yes, because he needs to get out of the house. They lie around a bit more, shower together, have dinner, watch some telly, and then break away for individual time. Remus reads his book on the sofa while Sirius sits at the dinner table and completes some diagrams. They reconvene in an hour or so for pre-bedtime, where they lie around, listen to music, and talk nonsense.

Sirius brings up going somewhere for a holiday and Remus is enthusiastic. They just can’t pick where. Maybe Iceland, or Australia, or Vietnam. Argentina, South Africa, America. The whole wide world. Sirius suggests Italy, Remus says he’d rather try Japan, and the nearest place they can agree on ends up being bloody Ireland.

When they go to sleep that night, Sirius turns on his side so the weight of his belly can rest next to him. Remus cuddles up next to him, a rather small big spoon, and gently re sts an arm on the soft curve of Sirius’s stomach. Warm and safe, they fall asleep together. 


	5. Lover's Spit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not the first kink fic i've written, but the first one i've posted, and thank u to those who have commented. hope you've enjoyed this indulgent trash

Sirius has to commend Remus for his efforts, because taking your tragically unfit boyfriend hiking never works out well (if you get the pun), and Sirius makes it the better of two miles before he throws in the towel. They’ve been climbing a mountain. Lily likes doing stuff like this, outdoor shit. Rock climbing, hiking, even mountain biking. James joins her sometimes but he’s more of a flying type of guy. Remus has always liked to swim. Way, way back, Sirius used to run. At Hogwarts. Long time ago.

Sirius doesn’t like any of it anymore. He’s heaving for breath, red faced and drenched in sweat, essentially beside himself from exhaustion and about a hundred paces behind Remus, who’s about twenty paces behind Lily, who has, at this point, disappeared out of sight into the woods. It’s beautiful, sure. Fall leaves, blue skies, all red orange yellow and autumn all around, but Sirius’s back aches, his feet hurt, and his knees are protesting to such an extent that it physically hurts to walk. Why had he thought he could go hiking? 

He’s dragging around an excess of fat that he can feel  _ all  _ of right now. The chafing of his thighs hurts, and his belly rubbing against his waistband hurts, and his whole body just  _ aches  _ from the weight he’s carrying.

“Moony!” Sirius calls desperately. “Remus!” The little figure of Remus on the path ahead of him turns around and puts a hand over his eyes, squinting back at Sirius. He waves. Sirius waves back, but stops walking. He bends over (the best he can with his belly in the way) and tries to catch his breath. Finally, he hears footsteps crunching back in his own direction.

“You alright? Do you need a break? It’s only two more miles to the peak.”

“I can’t,” Sirius pants, “I can’t do it. I’m going to stay here. You can meet me on the way back down. Phew.” He stands up. Remus is looking at him worriedly.

“I’m not going to abandon you in the woods, Sirius.”

“We’re on a path, and you’re not.” Sirius keeps fighting for breath, but it won’t come. “Abandoning me. It’s just. All uphill?”

“It’s a mountain, Pads!” Remus giggles a little. “The way back down will be less strenuous.”

“Moony, if my knees are. Hurting so badly right now. Then I don’t want to feel them. On the way back down.”

“Jesus, I didn’t realize you were in actual pain!”

“It’s  _ fine.  _ Please just go on ahead. I’ll be hanging out in the woods. It’s fine. I shouldn’t have come.” Sirius looks down, his face hot with more than just exertion. The embarrassment runs deep. Remus tells him okay, and to drink water, and they’ll be back in maybe an hour or so. He takes a few steps away and then rushes back to Sirius and says to go home, if he wants. 

“What?”

“Just Apparate home, I don’t want you to be stuck waiting for us if you don’t want to.” Remus looks concerned, his green eyes fixed on Sirius, worried. “Because there’s still the walk back and if you’re hurting- I don’t want your knees to hurt, and I don’t want you to not enjoy yourself, and it’s fine. It’s nice that you came. I’m glad you did. But go home if you like.”

Sirius goes home. And he never goes hiking again.

It had been stupid to try it in the first place. He had just wanted to spend time with Remus and Lily, doing something other than sitting around eating, but that’s apparently all he’s good at these days. That autumn is a sort of sad one. Sirius gets existential. It seems like everyone is doing impressive things with their lives and he’s just hiding in his apartment, eating himself out of his clothes, working towards a degree that seems fruitless, making motorbikes for selfish idiots who should just charm their own, and altogether only finding peace and comfort in food, and food, and even more food. 

Remus is doing as fine as he ever is. When Sirius talks to him about feeling down, he has a lot of ideas to offer. Meditation, and medication, and getting a new job, dropping out of school or asking for a new advisor, moving, fucking, changing his hair, eating something, and speaking of, would you like something to eat? And food is just so easy, so simple, always there and Sirius always says yes, so Remus feeds him. 

Things feel a bit better in December. 

Both of them know that the holiday season is truly the most wonderful time of the year. 

Two years ago, it had been the era where Sirius really started gaining and when it seems like everyone in their friend groups had gone overboard when it came to cooking delicious foods. As soon as November slips into December, Remus starts up the crazy cooking brigade.

One morning, he wakes Sirius up and declares that he’s made french toast.

“French toast?” Sirius asks as he trudges into the kitchen, scratching lazily at his belly. Their flat is chilly in the mornings and Sirius is only wearing a t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms. He wraps his arms around Remus from behind and nuzzles his neck; Remus sighs softly and gently spins Sirius around, hands brushing his wide hips, to kiss him on the lips. Then they hug again just for Remus to add some body heat, and then he says:

“Not just any french toast, Pads,  _ eggnog  _ french toast. With eggnog whipped cream. And there’s not many berries in season right now but I got some cranberries? If you want to try them, I dunno, they make them tart. And we have some veggie patties, if you want one.” 

“Yeah, sure, whatever you like.”

They stand around kissing each other until Remus mumbles that the bread has been in the batter for too long, and Sirius detaches from him to watch him cook. He fries up a bunch of toast while Sirius talks to him, just talks. Maybe it’s only to hear Remus’s voice early in the morning. To see his thick, messy hair, the scars over his round cheeks, how he’s always moving a little bit, dancing to nothing at all. 

“Hey, Moony.”

“What’s up?” Remus asks. He’s flipping french toast out of the pan. The pieces are soft, streaked with brown, all golden and delicious. Remus could be a professional chef if he wanted. 

“I love you.” Remus looks over at Sirius, who’s leaning back against the counter. He’s too heavy to pull himself up to sit on the counter anymore, which Remus must indirectly love because he always complained about Sirius sitting on the counter, something about it being unsanitary.

“I love you  _ back,  _ Pads, and with that, breakfast is served!”

And god, it’s good. Of course it’s good. All sweet with sticky syrup, and heavy in his mouth. The whipped cream adds a layer of creaminess, and the cranberries that Sirius decided to sprinkle on top are sharp and tart, cutting through the heavy greasiness to clear out his palette. It’s so good that Sirius just plows straight through all of the bread, through everything Remus can cook, and they move right on to lunch. 

**-**

Call Sirius sappy, but the best Christmas present of all is just living and breathing and existing in the same universe as Remus Lupin. They looked at old photos and got sort of sappy tonight, half shocked by the frightening concept of how old they are and how consequently  _ young  _ they looked at Hogwarts.

Remus was all gangly and pale, the scars across his face fresh and red. In magical photos, his smile is always half quirked and his teeth don’t make an appearance until sixth year. Sirius had been grinning from the start, from first all the way up until seventh year, self centered and dramatic, waving from the corners of pictures and dancing, jumping, twirling around like a manic burst of uncontrollable energy.

If only he had that energy nowadays. Sirius is always shocked to see old photos of himself. It seems unreal that he was once so thin, so  _ fit.  _ He got chubby during sixth year, after he left home for good and was banned from the Quidditch team because of what happened with Snape and Remus and the Whomping Willow. They never really talk about that.

Which is okay. All is forgiven. They’re in bed, now, and Sirius is watching his boyfriend sleep, like a little bit of a creep.

His eyes are gently shut, red mouth a little ways open, and Sirius can hear his soft breathing. His lips are slick, shining. Thick tawny hair all tousled around his head. 

A ragged, thick white scar twists itself across his nose. There’s two deep claw marks across his forehead that just barely graze his eyelid so his right eye is always a little closed. It looks like he’s just barely squinting, and he’s insecure about it, so in the summer he often dons these big black Muggle sunglasses that hide the squinted eye itself and the dark circles underneath them both.

Sirius's favorite scar is the one cutting Remus’s jaw. It’s a rough tear, not a perfect cut, and the skin there has only grown back as a rough patch of scar tissue. Sirius will fixate on this cut: kissing it, nibbling at it, or else just sucking at the skin there. Sirius love love  _ loves  _ Remus's scars; the ridged, ragged skin so tactile and gorgeous against his touch. 

It occurs to Sirius, just looking at Remus, that he wants to spend the rest of his life with him. This has occurred to Sirius on multiple occasions, and usually in passing, but today the feeling hits and it hits  _ hard.  _ And fuck, why not? They’re in their late twenties, having lived together for years and dating long before that. The two of them are essentially soulmates. They’re never jealous, or bitter, or angry with each other. They get along well. The only thing in the way of marriage is the fact that it’s not legal for them, two blokes, but who fucking cares? When has the law ever stopped them at something they’ve put their minds to?

It’s then and there that Sirius decides that he’s going to marry Remus Lupin. 

It’s an arduous process, apparently. He discusses it with Lily, James, Dorcas, and Benjy, all of whom offer their advice on what kind of ring to get, how to propose, what kind of music should be playing, et cetera. Lily and Dorcas think he should do something romantic. James thinks it should be dangerous, so Remus has some adrenaline in him for the proposal. Benjy says something along the lines of:  _ Don’t you fuckers have a food kink? Hide it in a cake, or something! _

Sirius manages to bite the bullet and buys a stupid wedding band in March, because he missed proposing both on Valentine’s Day  _ and  _ Remus’s birthday, which was dumb of him, and he’s broken 350 pounds and Remus gets a full time job at the Ministry and Sirius hides the box with the ring in his sock drawer and lays in bed at night worrying about when to do it literally all the time.

**-**

It’s late spring by the time Sirius convinces himself to propose. He’s going to, this time. He’s really going to. Remus is working late and so Sirius eats basically the entire kitchen out of anxiety. Sometimes he wonders if his eating habits ever verge on something disordered. He most definitely packs a lot away. It always hurts after a while, but Sirius keeps going.

He’s lying in bed right now, surrounded by empty packets of food, wearing only his stretchy boxers. Sirius had eaten about a whole loaf of bread’s worth of sandwiches, a frozen pizza, all the leftover samosas that James had made after the last full moon, a bag of tortilla chips, a blender’s worth of homemade milkshake, and is now working his way through his second package of cream filled donuts.

Yes, his stomach hurts. Sirius has been eating steadily all day. Which he does most every day. A ‘stuffing’ to him is when Remus cooks an obscene amount of food for dinner, they eat dessert, and then they get takeaway. Sirius sighs, thinking about takeaway, licking sugar from off of his fingers and patting his belly at the same time. He really likes donuts. Remus does too. They’re nothing but fattening but they taste so nice and they’re plump and good to eat. 

Sirius keeps absentmindedly pawing at his belly as he eats, and it’s only once he’s finished with everything does he realize how fucking huge he feels. His breasts are wide, with the fat supporting them rolling all the way around to his back. Right now, his belly is swollen; tight and firm right underneath his soft tits but giving easy way to heavy fat that sits in his lap.

Sirius sighs in relief as he heaves his huge, stretch marked belly in between his thighs, spreading them to make room. The sides of his belly rest gently on his thick thighs. He groans as he rubs his gut, taking deep and full breaths. his stretch marked belly spills over his thighs, heavy with cellulite, and probably as wide as Remus’s waist.

Fuck, now Sirius wants to know how wide his thighs are in comparison to his boyfriend’s waist. And  _ fuck,  _ Sirius wishes that he could call Remus his fiancee. 

When Remus comes home, Sirius is way too stuffed to move. 

“You look absolutely… beached.” Remus tells him from the doorway, his green eyes wide and appreciative. 

“Do we own a tape measure?”

“‘Do we own a tape measure’, he says, as though I haven’t been waiting for this moment my entire bloody life. Hold on a tick.” Remus toes off his shoes and rushes out of the bedroom, returning with a tape measure and a carton of ice cream. He sighs in relief upon sitting down, still achy from the full moon. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Um,  _ great _ .” Remus quirks his eyebrows at Sirius. He hates talking about any pain that he might be in, and if he’s well enough to be joking around and eating ice cream, then things are fine. “Okay, guess what would be so hot? Measuring your belly when it’s empty and then stuffing you and measuring it while full.”

“It’s never empty.” Remus just looks at Sirius, who stares right back at him. Remus shrugs.

“Fair. Okay, sit up now, there we go…” Sirius groans a bit as he sits up straight, having to bend forward around the heavy, painfully stuffed belly in his lap, while Remus deftly loops the yellow tape measure around his back and pulls it taut around the front of his stomach. Sirius is breathless just from having to sit up and reclines back onto his pillows while Remus whistles out loud. “Ohoo! Sixty five inches!”

“ _ What _ ?” 

“Ohoho,” Remus cackles, kissing Sirius’s tummy. “Very big. Man, why haven’t we measured before? We should do this all the time.”

“Measure your own, now,” Sirius tells him. Remus glances up. There are dark circles under his eyes. Merlin, he really does look tired.

“My own what?”

In politeness of not telling Remus that he does have his own little belly, Sirius says, “Your waist.”

“Oh, sure.” 

“No shirt.” Remus makes a face, but he obliges. Sirius watches as he shucks off his shirt and then looks down at the round pudge of his stomach with a bit of a blush on his face. Remus wraps the tape measure around his own belly and peers down at the number there, his face flaming red as he drops the measure and pulls his shirt back on.

“Well?” Sirius demands.

“Thirty eight, generously.”

“So forty.” Remus just rolls his eyes and pops open the ice cream container. “Hey, it could be worse!” Remus starts eating and settles in next to Sirius, eating a few bites of ice cream and then sighing. He laughs as he props the container on the shelf of Sirius’s belly and then shimmies out of his trousers. There’s some red lines on Remus’s scarred thighs from where the trousers cut into his skin. Freed from the tight constraints, Remus takes his ice cream back and curls up next to Sirius, eating it slowly and making banal conversation about his day.

Well, fuck. Sirius had stuffed himself so efficiently that he can’t even get up, and the ring is all the way over in his sock drawer… he may as well do it tomorrow.

**-**

Summer comes and Sirius and Remus are still not engaged. 

In July, Dorcas and Marlene get engaged, which makes Sirius all the more anxious. In August, Caradoc gets a job writing for a big music magazine. Benjy’s doing tattoos part time these days. In September, Lily announces that she’s pregnant. Remus is working for the Ministry full time, and Sirius just broke his chair at the kitchen table. 

Remus was standing up at the stove, tending to his toasted cheese sandwiches, while Sirius finished his third one and licked grease from the fingers of one hand while rubbing his belly with the other. He widened the posture of his thighs, allowing more room for his belly to spill over, and then there had been a loud CRACK and then Sirius had been sitting on the floor with a loud thump, his arse aching and the chair in splinters around him.

Remus goes crazy, of course. At first it’s “oh my god, are you okay?” and then it’s “let me feed you three more sandwiches while you sit on the floor because you’re too fat for normal chairs,” and then they have sex on the kitchen floor and then they go to the store to buy another one. A  _ stronger  _ one, that won’t break under Sirius’s desperately fat ass. 

It’s almost terrifyingly sexy in that odd, shameful way. Everyday things have become more embarrassing as Sirius has gotten bigger, things that mostly involve moving. He doesn’t exactly waddle, but his thighs sort of overlap when he walks and when he’s been on his feet for a while or his skin is chafing, he does sort of have trouble walking. Getting out of bed can be stupidly difficult. If context ever requires Sirius to sit down on the floor, it’s a struggle of sitting down and even more awful to sit up; his belly is a heavy mound in the way of everything and it’s stupid how hot both Sirius and Remus find it. 

The point is that they do. The point is that neither of them can really get enough, and though Sirius’s weight bounces around quite a bit, he’s sort of steadied out around 350 or so and sometimes he still feels small, but sometimes he’s struck by how huge he’s gotten and there’s it again- that white hot shame that turns him on just the same. 

On an everyday morning in early November, Sirius wakes up before Remus and sort of just… lets his ego get to him. When Sirius lies on his side as he is, he feels hugely wide. His hips are wide and soft, his belly spilling over his stretched thighs. His hip curves backwards while his bulging belly falls the other way. Remus can’t even wrap a full arm around him like this. Sirius’s belly lies next to him, like a whole separate entity, and it pushes gently against Remus’s chest. 

The morning air in their bedroom is cool, but it’s warm under the covers. Remus has his hand pressing against the lowest curve of Sirius’s belly, in his sleep, and Sirius feels stupidly in love. Held. Birds are crying outside. 

Remus moves a bit, his eyes fluttering as he wakes up, and he squints in the early morning sunlight, smiling as he sees Sirius.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Hiya,” Remus breathes.

“You’re very lovely.”

“Thanks, you too.” Remus smiles then; genuine and gentle. He stirs and rises a bit; his hair all tousled and golden brown. He sticks his tongue out a bit when he smiles, catching it on the edge of his lip and then biting down gently. Remus snuggles deeper into the covers for a moment, scrunching up his shoulders, before expelling the tense energy by stretching his long limbs everywhere and all at once- as far as they can go. 

After Remus finishes cracking every last one of his joints, he stands up and very dramatically shakes out the kinks in his spine. 

“I’m going to make you the yummiest, most delicious breakfast in the whole universe, you know why?” 

“Tell me why.”

“It’s your  _ birthday _ !” And sirius grins even wider, sort of shyly. “It's  _ the  _ Sirius Black’s birthday, so of course I’m going to make him a special breakfast.” 

Remus’s Special Birthday Breakfast is terrible; a combination of everything and more. He makes pancakes stuffed with nutella while Sirius fries up some eggs, and then they sit around eating themselves silly. Remus included, because he’s slowly but surely been gaining weight. He used to lose it all over full moons, but then he didn’t lose all of it, just some of it. He gained too much during the rest of the month for it all to burn off over the moons.

So he’s kept gaining, and kept gaining, and although he looks almost hopelessly small compared to Sirius, Remus is no longer anything close to the scrawny, hollow looking man that he used to be. He usually gets shameless when he’s high. While sober, Remus usually eats respectable portions (second helpings, of course, but not much farther than that). This morning, maybe as a treat for Sirius’s birthday, he decides to go all out just the same. 

They eat the eggs alongside the pancakes, just for a taste of savory. But when their protein is gone, Sirius realizes that these pancakes are maybe the best thing he’s ever eaten. They’re  _ fat.  _ Fluffy, heavy, and buttery. And inside is a thick coating of warm, gooey Nutella. Sirius has eaten faster than Remus, with a much larger capacity, while Remus is squirming a bit uncomfortably as he cuts another bite of pancake. 

Sirius watches him, entranced. Remus stuffs another big bite into his mouth, getting some chocolate on the edge of his lip, and making a soft noise as he swallows. Fuck,  _ this  _ is how it feels, huh? Remus keeps going, his breathing heavy and his soft cheek smeared with the chocolate that he tried (and failed) to wipe from his lip. Sirius watches his lips, listens to him chew, how he’s breathless, how he grunts a bit after swallowing. 

“Are you full?” Sirius asks him gently, and Remus blinks, looking back up at him with a bit of surprise in his eyes. Sirius knows how it feels. Sirius has felt this exact way before, getting lost in the tastes and feelings of stuffing yourself only to remember that there’s someone with you, watching you, taking care of you.

“Yeah,” Remus sighs. “I’m really turning into you, huh?”

“I bet you like it,” Sirius says. Remus is still eating, helping himself to another pancake. He has to lean over his stuffed belly to get to the plate of them and grins at Sirius embarrassedly as he settles back down on the sofa, one hand drawn to the visible curve of his stomach. “I like seeing you like this, too.”

Red faced, Remus keeps eating. He’s slowed down and his breathing is labored as he continues, chewing on the decadent pancakes, slathering them in whipped cream and just stuffing his face, shameless, out of breath and still eating and it’s so, so,  _ so  _ fucking hot.

“Remus.”

“Yeah.”

“Is this on purpose?”

“Oh, Sirius, it’s your birthday.” Remus stifles a burp and shifts around, trying to get comfortable under the weight of his stuffed belly. “But these are really good. Like,  _ fuck _ . Why haven’t I made them before? Oh, god.” And he pushes the last bite past his pouty lips, huffs a bit as he swallows, and then takes a long drink of tea before sitting back with one hand shamelessly splayed over his bloated belly, green eyes locked with Sirius’s.

“And now you’re letting me rub your belly.”

“Yeah, I suppose I am.” Sirius shifts his own heavy weight on the sofa as he moves closer to Remus, who looks hot and uncomfortable. Sirius pushes up the hem of his shirt and sees Remus’s belly rounded out neatly over his waistband. He has small love handles creasing at his sides, and his chest is a bit soft, too. 

Sirius touches him like he’s never done before, a gentle palm rubbing over his soft stomach, and Remus curves into the touch like a cat. Oh, okay. Remus is bigger than Sirius imagined. He hides his body well. Always wears things that fit. When Sirius started gaining, he was in denial and wore clothes much too small for him, accentuating every pound he gained, but not Remus. He’s cagey about the new weight.

But there is definitely some give to his soft belly, fat that Sirius plays with and cups. Remus is still flush faced, but not necessarily from being full anymore. 

“You’ve gotten big, baby, huh?”

“A little,” Remus mumbles.

“‘A little’,” Sirius mocks, pinching the overhang of Remus’s tummy, which earns him a weak swat, “More like a lot. You’ve been eating just as much as I have… how many pancakes was that? Six, seven?”

“Ten.” Remus is really flushing, now, and closes his eyes as Sirius’s hands move lower than his belly. “I counted them all.”

“Ten?” Sirius is genuinely surprised. He hadn’t even eaten that many. “That’s, almost… that’ll put you at, like, five thousand calories!” Remus makes a strange noise in his throat. Sirius slips a hand under the soft, sweaty curve where his belly folds over his waist and then under his pants, to find his cock very hard by contrast. “And think of how much more we’ll eat today…”

**-**

It ends up being a lot more. 

They stay in all day and eat, and fuck, and listen to music and repeat those three things because that’s what life has become. In the evening, they shower off each other, put on real clothes, and go hang out with James and Lily. No crazy parties. Not even  _ drinking,  _ because Lily’s  _ pregnant,  _ and Sirius decides that tonight is the night he’s going to propose, because it’s his birthday and nothing would be a better present than having Remus agree to marry him.

Except Sirius is a fucking procrastinator. And now it’s eleven o’clock and they’re on the sofa eating cupcakes with no trousers on like  _ boyfriends,  _ not like fiancees, not like  _ husbands,  _ and Sirius keeps feeding the cupcakes to Remus because he’s learned how nice it feels to feed someone else and watch them grow full, sated, content, and then more than. 

“Hey, have another,” Sirius tells Remus, pressing another cupcake to his mouth, but Remus physically turns his head away, so Sirius takes a big bite out of it instead. “Too full?” He asks Remus with his mouth full.

“Yeah.” Remus is staring at him, though, with wide eyes. He scoots closer to Sirius and touches him. Moves a hand over his bulging love handle, then settles at the softest part of his lower belly that droops over his lap and into his thighs. “Yeah, erm. You know boundaries?” Sirius nods, confused. “We never really talked about mine.” It’s a serious topic, but Remus keeps touching Sirius, like he wants to keep their conversation light.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Moony, I should’ve asked.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine. I just. I don’t feel the same way as you, you know? About gaining? I don’t have your goals. Like I want  _ you  _ to be bigger, and I want to feed you and, and touch you,” He jiggles a handful of Sirius’s belly per example, and continues, “But I don’t want to be super big. I’m not healthy already and my mobility will be really shit, I already have breathing problems, and getting fat just isn’t. It’s not sustainable for me and I like it better on you, anyways.”

“Okay. Thank you for telling me.” Remus nods. “So does that mean I should… stop feeding you?” Remus shrugs.

“I guess. Yeah, I guess. Just not pressing it on me, you know, just letting me be in control…?” He looks at Sirius and, thankfully, smiles. “I’m just not submissive! And it’s so weird to have you doing it, and I like it better with me and you.”

“Right, with me and you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Sirius kisses him out of nowhere, quickly but with firm purpose. “I like me and you.”

“I like us too.” Remus is playing with his fat, rubbing his belly and squeezing the rolls at his side, tracing over stretch marks and rubbing gently whenever he sees fit. They drift into silence for a while. Sirius has another cupcake. Remus keeps touching him, just absentmindedly. And it’s now that Sirius realizes there is no perfect time to do this, and there very well may never be. So why not now?

“Hey, Moony, do me a favor, will you?” Remus looks up, gently pulling his hands back, his cheeks a bit flushed. He always looks a bit ashamed when caught up so obviously playing with Sirius’s belly, and his blush deepens down his neck when Sirius sits up straighter and tugs his shirt back down over his stomach. 

“What’s up?”

Sirius debates his words for about one second before speaking them out loud. “Marry me?” Remus’s eyes go  _ wide.  _ His mouth drops open. The blush has completely overtaken his scarred face, turning it really, properly  _ red,  _ and the scars stand out white against his hot skin. 

“Yes,” He bursts out, “Yes, but it’s illegal!”

“When has that ever stopped us?” Remus looks at a loss for words. He covers his face with his hands. “Oh, shit.” Sirius says. “Shit, I have a ring.”

“Oh my god.” Remus says from behind his hands. Sirius heaves himself off of the couch and hurries into the bedroom, digging through his sock drawer to find the sock where he had shoved the small box, and he rushes back into the living room, lowers himself down on one knee despite the challenges, and presents the box to Remus.

“Sorry,” Sirius huffs, out of breath, “Shall I do it properly? Remus, will you marry me?”

“Already said yes,” Remus breathes. “But I’ll say it again. Yes. Yeah. Fucking,  _ always _ . Jesus christ.” He pulls Sirius’s face towards his and kisses him, hard, then looks down at the little box. The ring is simple, just a golden band, but Remus looks once again at a loss for words. His green eyes are all sparkly, and he wipes them with the heels of his hands, laughing a bit with the sound of hysterics in his throat. 

“Fuck, Sirius, I love you so much. What the hell?” Remus takes the small band and looks at it, and he’s still tearful. Sirius slides the ring onto Remus’s finger gently and then Remus breaks; sniffling as he wipes the tears from his cheeks, laughing and crying at the same time, pulling Sirius into his best attempt at a hug, but it’s mostly Remus halfway sitting on what little remains of Sirius’s lap, kissing his cheeks then his lips and then just holding him there.

“I can’t believe you want me forever,” Remus sniffles. “It’s about a million full moons, and me throwing up in your toilet every month, and my-” He hiccups, “My shitty family and I’m a bloody  _ werewolf _ -” Another hiccup- “Marrying a fucking werewolf, Sirius, it’s so  _ stupid _ !” He’s almost sobbing now and Sirius, perplexed, just rubs his back comfortingly.

“I’m not any better, Moony, please don’t cry! Are you happy? Are you sad? I can’t tell.”

“You’re  _ perfect _ !” Remus bursts out and then attacks Sirius with another hug, his arms all the way around his boyfriend- his  _ fiancee’s  _ doughy body, holding onto all of him, everything he wants. Sirius feels Remus’s tears wet his shirt, and his body shuddering as he breathes it back into control. “I love you, I love you, I’ll love you forever.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with you, Remus,” Sirius explains softly. “Never has been, never will be.”

“We’re such saps.” Remus has finally pulled back, his eyes glazed from crying, his scarred face blotchy, and his nose red. The most handsome man that Sirius has ever laid eyes on. “Time to bake a celebration cake?” 


End file.
